Sakuradamon
by geckohawaii
Summary: As the Meiji Revolution flares into existence two men come to Hiko with a mysterious proposition. What will happen when Kenshin finds out what that proposition is?
1. Chapter 1

He always thought mountains were supposed to be quiet and serene; a place to tune out the world and focus one's energies. He'd realized when he'd first arrived several years ago this was far from the truth. The keening of hawks, the wind moaning through crevices, even clumps of snow plummeting to the ground made for a mountain that was markedly _not_ soft. Summer, in particular, was always noisy. The insects seemed to be at war over who could drone the loudest for the longest amount of time.

But even the incessant buzzing of cicadas couldn't quite drown out the loud swish as Kenshin's sword sliced downward with astonishing speed. The brown summer grass below rustled in response. _One thousand_. Without pause the boy slipped into an offensive stance and thrust upwards. The sheen of sweat on his forearm outlined his taut boyish muscles. His body moved fluidly and precisely, and only his red hair was out of synch, flying every which way as he struck and parried invisible opponents.

He looked focused on the task at hand but Kenshin knew he would be called out if Hike Seijurou was watching. Kenshin was desperately trying to make out the conversation occurring fifty feet away from where he practiced. The most he'd caught thus far was angry mutterings.

He executed a flip, bringing him several feet closer to the three men conversing in low tones. Still nothing more than a low drone that blended with the cicadas' melody. Ironic, that the last lesson his shishou had tried to drill into his head was about utilizing auditory senses. He'd just have to move a little closer and make sure he stayed in the safety of the trees.

Kenshin wasn't sure how many more times he flipped and slid his way closer to the trio−it was hard to pretend like you were practicing diligently while paying attention to something else−but suddenly he realized he could hear the conversation quite well. He let his cheek rest lightly against the smooth bark of the tree he stood behind.

"Don't give me that ethics bit, Seijurou, I know damn well why you're being so obstinate about this."

"Then you know nothing you can say will change my mind." His shishou, arrogant as ever.

"You know you're effectively turning your back on your country?" The third man spoke. He and the other man were obviously worked up about something.

Kenshin had forgotten all about practice strokes by now.

"I know that an unexpected force is a much more effective defense than some group all but advertising a coup." Shishou, on the other hand, could have been talking about pottery. "Observe."

The tree obscured his line of sight and Kenshin didn't even know his shishou had moved until a hand closed around his gi and dragged him forward. "Shishou, I was just practicing." Kenshin spluttered, embarrassed at being caught off-guard and exposed so easily.

"I suppose that's why your sword is lying on the ground there?" This invited chuckles from the other two men.

Kenshin scowled, annoyed that his embarrassment was the reason for the sudden release of tension. "I _was_ practicing." He repeated stubbornly.

"Who's this whippersnapper?" Asked the man Kenshin had first heard speak. His hair was pulled into a traditional samurai topknot, and his daishou lay on the ground beside him.

"Nobody. Just a boy I took in a few years ago. I thought I might turn him into a swordsman but as we've seen here, his future would be pretty grim."

_Nobody_? Kenshin felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach, and his face flushed as this jibe provoked more laughter from the visitors than his shishou's first comment.

"Nobody! You're something, Seijrou."

"Despite his apparent lack of talent though, I'm not giving up." Kenshin almost winced as Hiko gripped his shoulder tightly and gave it a shake. "You can see this is just one more reason I'm not the man you want for this. I have too much liability."

Kenshin's eyes were burning now. Shishou had never called him that. Even the times when he _was_ a liability.

"You can't hide behind a boy, Seijurou," The second man had long, flowing hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. "I can see we won't get anything more from you today, but you haven't heard the last of us about this, I promise you that." He scooped his daishou from the ground and stood. "Come, Jisaemon, we'll take our leave."

The other man kept his eyes on Hiko, slowly tying his daishou to his hakama. "I don't believe you're hiding behind anything, Siejurou. But . . . I would advise you to consider our request. Consider it an honor. Who knows what− _liabilities_ could occur if you ignore your country's need."

Hiko was gripping his shoulder painfully hard now but Kenshin didn't dare shrug free. "Until next time then, Jisaemon, Yoshinobu."

The two visitors turned and walked briskly to the rocky path that led down the mountain. Kenshin watched them disappear into the trees, hurt and anger boiling inside him.

"Shishou!" He glared up at his teacher, but before he could continue Hiko had shoved him away, his hand raised.

"Baka deshi!" Kenshin quailed, sure that he was about to be backhanded to the ground. Hiko's voice was scathing, and his eyes could have burned holes through a tree.

"What part of 'stay out of sight' don't you understand?"

"I just−I thought you didn't want to be disturbed." Kenshin said meekly.

"And you thought you'd go unnoticed squatting behind a tree less than five feet away? Do you realize what you've done?" Hiko roared, his raised hand quivering.

Kenshin had to force himself not to turn and run. "No."

The flame left Hiko's eyes although he held his hand up a moment longer before clenching it into a fist. "Keh, of course you don't." His hand fell to his side. "Baka deshi." The words lacked their previous venom though and Kenshin breathed an inward sigh of relief. "Promise me, Kenshin, that you stay away from those men if you ever see them again."

"Why?"

"They're vultures. They'll eat anything that's thrown their way, and scavenge what isn't."

The cryptic response went over Kenshin's head. "I could beat them in a fight if I had to."

"I'm not talking about one fight, baka." Hiko snapped. "Why don't you listen to me for once and do as I say."

"Alright, I'll stay away if I see them." Kenshin mumbled. Like _that _would happen. He was still burning to know what had transpired though. "Can't you at least tell me who those men were?"

Hiko seemed to be appraising him. Then, simply, "Black ships."


	2. Chapter 2

**Short chapter guys, sorry. The next several should be significantly longer though. Also, I forgot to mention this in chapter 1, but I can't stand the title and will be changing it when I can think of something that isn't incredibly corny. I hate titles. Such a pain. **

"Black ships?" Kenshin wondered briefly why his teacher had to use such unfathomable words instead of speaking like a normal person. It gave him a headache sometimes, trying to decipher what Hiko meant.

Hiko must have been feeling abnormally magnanimous because he elaborated. "Just two disillusioned samurai who think they can do Japan a great favor by murdering their own countrymen."

"They want you to kill for them?"

"I didn't say that."

"What else would you mean?"

Hiko scratched his chin. "Exactly how much did you hear?"

"Only that they want you to do something for Japan. And since you mentioned murder, I figured it must be that." Kenshin wasn't expecting the tight smile Hiko gave him.

"Hm. My training hasn't been a complete failure I see. You can at least piece together information, even if you die as soon as you hear it."

"Shishou . . ."

"Yes. They want me to assassinate someone in the government and provoke the Shougunate."

"Wow." Kenshin breathed, images of noble, black-cloaked warriors who looked like Hiko traipsing across his mind. It struck him how fragile a government really was, to know that one swing of a sword made such a difference. He shivered involuntarily. "Why don't you-"

"You know nothing of politics." Hiko cut him off. "It's foolish for a number of reasons, not least that I would never be able to live peacefully again."

"Someone would try to assassinate you then." Kenshin nodded and accepted the answer. "Shishou," Hiko's eyebrows arched at the tone Kenshin's voice took on. His baka deshi hadn't sounded that timid since Hiko had first found him.

"Nani?" The word came out harsher than he'd intended. He still found it difficult to adjust his manner of speech when dealing with children.

"Why are you letting me stay here and train if I'm such an inconvenience? I can go, you know. I know how to take care of myself." The last was said with a trace of belligerence.

Hiko almost smirked. Good. His deshi's pride wouldn't let him fall apart completely. "Whoever said you were an inconvenience?" This could be rich.

"Wha-you did!" Kenshin stabbed a finger at Hiko's chest. He was getting furious just recalling his shishou's words from earlier. "And you said you didn't care what happened to me! Well, if you think that, I'll just leave now!" Kenshin spun on his heel, prepared to stomp down the mountain and right out of Edo, but he was stopped short.

"You have a way of twisting people's words, baka." Hiko 's hand clamped on Kenshin's shoulder and twisted the boy to face him again. "First, I said you were a liability, not an inconvenience."

"It's the same thing." Kenshin fumed, glaring at the ground and refusing to meet Hiko's eyes.

"Completely the opposite, actually. Shall I explain?"

Kenshin grunted.

"Those men that came earlier didn't know I had a student. And now that they do, they won't hesitate to use this information to their advantage. Therefore, you're a liability." Hiko shook his head. "Idiot. Just remembering how you blatantly disobeyed me-"

"I'm sorry," Kenshin muttered, somewhat mollified at Hiko's explanation. It still sounded bad, being a liability, but not as bad as being an inconvenience. He opened his mouth to speak but Hiko raised a finger.

"Ah! As for caring what happened to you−you're the successor to the Hiten Mitsurugi Style. Do you know how much time it would take to find another student worthy of learning my secrets? I've already wasted three years on you. Does that satisfy you? You're not going to run away tonight? Because if you did you'd have to make up for missed practice time."

Kenshin blinked. He had the distinct feeling Hiko had wormed his way out of actually saying anything positive about him. The sad thing was, Kenshin actually felt better. "Hai."

"Good. Now go get some water for the pot, I'm starving."


	3. Chapter 3

**The imagination is firing! Hopefully it'll stay lit until I finish this. Tried to publish last night but the site was down. Oh well! This is a lull-before-the-storm chapter. Things'll start to pick up from here.**

The two anti-Shougunates didn't return, and in the days that followed Hiko said nothing more about the unexpected visitors, and Kenshin didn't ask. Summer turned into fall and Kenshin almost forget anyone had propositioned his shishou. He already had too much on his mind anyway, trying to keep one step ahead of Hiko's strict training regime.

Kenshin didn't mind, really−he could feel himself becoming faster, stronger−he just wished Hiko might throw him a little more encouragement. A caustic "at least you didn't fall this time" wasn't quite what he had in mind. He sincerely assumed his teacher knew best though; besides which, Kenshin's own streak of arrogance refused to let him ask Hiko for praise. He wanted to convey the message he was strong enough for anything.

He must have conveyed the message a little too well because the middle of January found Kenshin braving a freezing rain as part of a training exercise. Kenshin walked into the trap with blissful ignorance. He should have known something was up when he glanced towards his master and saw the glint in his eyes. Any sane person would have said the wise thing to do was avoid his shishou's gaze. Instead, Kenshin squarely met Hiko's scrutinizing mien. First mistake.

"What is it, shishou?" Second mistake.

"Do you think you've become strong, Kenshin?"

He didn't hesitate. "Yes! My dou ryuu sen knocked the dummy over today." Fatal mistake−engaging in conversation that was carefully premeditated on his master's part.

"Strong enough to rely on yourself in a dangerous situation?"

Kenshin thought he might not like the outcome of this line of questioning so he hastily applied caution to his responses. "I−I think so." He thought to add a disqualifier. "Most any."

"I agree with you," Hiko said and Kenshin was so surprised all he could do was blink. "If you're talking about human forces." That threw him for a loop. What other kind of forces would he possibly be fighting? "Nature, though, is a different story." Right.

"In order to use his abilities to their full extent, a swordsman must understand nature." Hiko continued. "If you aren't aware of your surroundings, can't use them to your advantage, then your opponent will use that against you." He nodded towards the door. Outside, icy sleet bumped softly against the tiny cabin's walls. "You need to be able to fight in any condition, not just the perfect ones."

"Shishou, are you saying−I have to go out in that?" An involuntary shiver chased up his spine.

His master shrugged with indifference. "I thought when you said you'd become strong you really meant it. Obviously if you feel you're too weak to withstand a little cold and rain this will have to wait." Hiko knew just how to egg him on, and that infuriated Kenshin. Still, he couldn't very well say no at this point. Not after he'd just bragged about his strength and blossoming skill.

"I don't care about the rain."

"Good." Hiko pulled a mino and straw hat from somewhere behind him and tossed them at Kenshin. "Get your sword." He was out the door before Kenshin could stand and the boy hurried to tie his sword at his side, running after Hiko even as he tied the mino around his neck.

"Shishou, not so fast, I can't see!" Kenshin protested as Hiko swiftly disappeared from view. The steady sleet forced him to keep his head down. Damn. Why had he let his master talk him into this? "Shishou?" Kenshin had the uneasy feeling he was about to learn firsthand about fighting in inclement weather. He moved slowly, straining his senses. The frigid breeze made his eyes blur with tears though, and the only thing he could hear was the sound of ice falling to the ground. Despite that Kenshin forced himself to scan the premises for any sign of his master, rubbing his eyes frequently. Even a second of warning would make a critical difference.

It took him a minute to realize he could follow Hiko's footprints. Kenshin trudged in their direction, moving closer to the dark blur that he assumed was the treeline. Sleet? _And _trees? His shishou must be feeling particularly sadistic today.

Hiko's footprints stopped just at the treeline and Kenshin groaned inwardly. As if it wasn't bad enough his eyes were continuously tearing, now he had to look upwards and subject his face to the elements. He would do it though. He wasn't going to give Hiko the satisfaction of giving up.

The attack came while he was staring blindly up at the trees, trying to shade his eyes with one hand, his sword still hanging docilely at his side. He heard the crack of booted feet on ice and whirled frantically, pulling his sword from its sheath and up to guard. He knew it was sloppy, and sure enough pain blossomed just under his ribcage, causing him to stumble backwards.

Kenshin still hadn't seen anything, and he spun in a circle now, sword clenched in white fingers. He thought he saw a flash of red and struck out, carelessly leaving his side unprotected. The second attack landed there. It didn't sting as much as the first, but the sheer force of it knocked the wind from him and sent him crashing sideways into a tree. Kenshin's sword fell from his grasp as his hand opened involuntarily. Not good. Gasping for air, he scrabbled drunkenly on the icy ground for two panic-filled seconds and stood quickly with sword in guard position. This time he kept his elbows in.

"It's never a good idea to rely on everything you see. Appearances are always deceiving." His master's disembodied voice was definitely not coming from the trees. He'd tricked him. Kenshin stared hard into the closely spaced trees. A thrill shot through him when he felt his master's ki. Ha! It was faint but he had a direction now.

"Baka deshi," Kenshin couldn't stop a yelp of surprise as he was yanked off the ground by his mino. "No warrior worth their salt is going to broadcast their ki that easily without a plan." Hiko let him fall back into the snow and Kenshin righted himself, facing his master who now stood directly in front of him. "You breathe much too loud. If I didn't know better I would've thought there was a forge here."

"I couldn't breathe!"

"Sounded as if you were doing a fine job of it to me. Never mind that though. Let's see if your fighting skills in these conditions are as horrendous as your tracking." Hiko charged towards him. Kenshin ducked under the first swing and aimed a blow at Hiko's kneecap. To his dismay Hiko's knee shot out and sent him reeling backwards with a bloody nose.

"Slow." Came the laconic judgment. Rather than wait for another attack, Kenshin grabbed a tree branch and pulled it back, letting it fly towards Hiko's face. He expected his master to slice it in half, leaving Kenshin with an opening. Instead he simply raised his saiya and gave a mighty swing downwards. The branch and Kenshin's hopes cracked. "At least it was creative." Hiko said, sword already swinging into action again.

Kenshin was proud of himself for blocking the following blow. He wanted to say _see, I'm getting good_, but he was finding it hard enough as it was to just fight in the miserable weather. He kept spraying sleet into his face every time he swung his sword.

"Don't let your defenses down just because you're uncomfortable." Hiko seemed to read his mind. "Someone trying to kill you isn't going to let you clear your eyes."

Kenshin responded by jumping up to land on a sleet-sodden tree branch, a wild plan forming in his mind. He heard Hiko chuckle. "So you want to have a fight in the trees, do you? I'll oblige." And with the ease of a leopard Hiko sprang into the tree opposite Kenshin. "Now what?" Hiko challenged.

Although the sleet was still falling it had changed from a steady downpour to a soft mist. Good. Kenshin sheathed his sword, body shaking more from nervous excitement than cold. He thought he saw a smile ghost over his teacher's face. "A battoujutsu, eh?"

Kenshin didn't respond, concentrating on putting all his energy into the draw. His battoujutsu was perfect−he just didn't hit Hiko.

"Baka deshi, what was that? You aren't even close enough to hit me-" There was a sharp crack and suddenly Hiko plummeted towards the ground. It was Kenshin's chance. His master could easily gain his footing, but he was distracted.

Kenshin jumped out of the tree with a shout and hoped to kami his chest was protected enough. A midair attack was the hardest to defend against, but also the riskiest to perform. Kenshin struck, bringing his sword down for ryuutsuisen. He thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but he was already committed. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of frustration as his attack was countered.

Kenshin woke lying flat on his back, the slate-colored sky staring him in the face. The sleet had stopped. It took a second for him to be aware of the cold seeping into his clothes, and the fact that his jaw felt as if it'd been hit with a hammer. The acrid tang of blood coated his tongue. Had shishou punched him? A white-cloaked figure loomed over him then.

"Sometimes I'm surprised at your ingenuity." Hiko said, although his tone suggested ingenuity was something to be expected. "Using the pressure wave created by your battoujutsu to drive the ice into the branch was thoughtful." Kenshin wasn't sure if he should say thank you or not. Wasn't sure he could talk_, _even if he _did _want to say it.

"Sh'shou," he slurred, sitting up slowly and holding a hand to his jaw, "did you hit me?"

"Of course not!" Hiko said it as if he would never entertain the idea of laying a finger on his deshi. "You were too close for me to bring my sword around. I used the handle to knock you away." He crouched on one knee by his pupil. "I think that's enough for now. You have an idea of what I'm talking about." Kenshin staggered to his feet, hiding a wince as the numerous bruises he'd acquired protested. He'd probably have to endure more of the same tomorrow. His master liked to get on training tangents for weeks a time. Strangely, Kenshin was satisfied. His shishou had called him ingenious. He could last weeks on that.

**Thanks for the reviews and comments so far, everyone!**

**Mistress Ayesha: **Boooo, biology assignments! I'm so glad I'm passed all that. Good luck!

**ZukoFlame: ***sheepish grin* Yeah . . . sorry for the confusion, it's not just you, I stupidly switched perspective several times in that chapter. I need to fix that. Thanks for noticing!

**sueb262:***blush* thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Another mini-chap. Action is coming soon, I promise!**

A cool breeze caressed the thickets of slender bamboo that lined the empty road, and the sea of green waved and danced appreciatively. Even though it wasn't quite March, the weather was pleasant. A faint clanging announced a presence at the far end of the road, and soon a young boy appeared, his zori sending puffs of dirt whirling about his legs. The clanging came from a sword swinging disjointedly at his side, mere inches from the ground. As he neared the rows of bamboo, the boy brushed a strand of red hair from his eyes. Despite his threadbare peasant clothing, he had a smile on his face and a spring in his step.

Kenshin had been sent to buy rice and tofu, and he had discovered Hiko had given him more than enough money for both. His shishou never sent more than enough. Usually he just racked up a tab with the local merchants. Kenshin had plans for whatever was left over; indefinite as yet, but he was going to buy something.

Kenshin drew in a deep breath as a bevy of scents assailed him. There was the fresh, briny smell of seafood, and a delicious aroma from some spiced meat sizzling just down the road. Kenshin thought he caught a hint of sweet yams cooking nearby as well. Even though the sun hadn't been up long, the market was doing good business. Cooks and wives were already preparing for lunch. Kenshin hurried to make his purchases before the streets were packed.

Once the rice and tofu were paid for and packaged, Kenshin was pleased to see ten mon left in his hand. He walked back along the street slowly, searching for something that would catch his eye. "Ohayou, Tanaka-san." Kenshin greeted the fish vendor Hiko sometimes patronized.

"Ohayou, Ken-kun. Searching for sake?" Tanaka grinned knowingly. Kenshin liked the soft-hearted man.

"Just rice and tofu today."

"And maybe some fish? Some maguro were just delivered, they're still alive."

Kenshin shook his head. "Thank you, but Shishou said just rice and tofu. I'll ask him if we can get fish next time."

Tanaka laughed. "Okay then. And Ken-kun,"

"Hai?"

"Miyagi-kun's taffy is on sale today."

Kenshin realized he'd been jingling the extra mon absently. Taffy sounded good. "Arigatou!" With a wave he moved more purposefully now, headed towards the movable cart where Miyagi made his candy. He was so intent on his destination he didn't notice he was being followed.

"Look what we have here, it's that little deshi of Seijurou's." Kenshin's head snapped left. It was one of the men –Yoshinobu?−who had visited his master so many months ago. Yoshinobu was keeping step with him, and Kenshin was wary.

"My name is Kenshin."

"Kenshin? That's too much of a coincidence. I don't suppose that's your given name is it?"

"No, shishou gave it to me because it's a swordsman's name."

"Of course he'd do that. Arrogant bastard, thinking he's so mighty and can't stoop to help the rest of the world. It can't be easy living with him, can it?"

Kenshin was confused about where this was going. "It's okay."

"Well I see he's got you running his errands. He doesn't ever laugh at your mistakes? Expect you to do everything right the first time?"

The man's comments were scarily on target. "Yes but shishou's teaching me his art. I can't pay him anyway so I help him out."

"You tell yourself that." Yoshinobu nodded sympathetically. "But I bet you wonder−does this man really care about me?" He did think that. All the time. "You probably wonder if he's only teaching you for his own selfish reasons, to prove how great he is, that even a runt like you can learn if Hiko Seijurou is his teacher."

"Shishou's not like that." Kenshin protested but he sounded unsure even to himself.

Yoshinobu shrugged. "Well, I guess you know him better than I. But let me ask you− would _you_ turn down the chance to save your country's future? Would you refuse to be a part of something so big it will be written in history for centuries?"

Kenshin's breath caught in his throat. "The assassination?" He whispered.

The man grinned. "Yes. We need talented swordsmen. Like you, Kenshin. Seijurou refuses to help Japan, but you could show the world the might of Hiten Mitsuruugi Ryu. You'd even be doing your school a favor, giving it such publicity."

Kenshin was flattered that his talent had been recognized; it would be good, to show how powerful his school's technique was.

"Oh, and did I mention, you wouldn't have to cook anyone's food, or practice from dawn til dusk." Yoshinobu added smoothly. "You practice when you want, and we have servants to cook and clean for us."

"Servants?" Kenshin echoed. His only experience with them was being one himself.

"I'm sure you're quite happy with Siejurou though. You wouldn't want to stay with men like us. After all, the pay isn't that good."

"You get paid?" Kenshin's voice cracked with disbelief.

"One kan every month." The ten copper mon in Kenshin's fist suddenly seemed insignificant compared with a gold kan. He wouldn't know what to do with it. Kenshin wanted with all his heart to jump at this unbelievably good opportunity but he couldn't ignore his nagging conscience. Hiko had done so much for him−had _saved_ him. And Kenshin had the nerve to even think about figuratively trampling on his shishou's generosity? When he spoke, his words were tight with regret.

"I want to help you. Really. But−I can't leave shishou. I can't interrupt my training." Anger clouded Yoshinobu's face, and he looked so enraged that Kenshin was afraid he might be whisked away and never heard from again. Then Yoshinobu grinned broadly.

"I'm here every morning, so you know where to find me if you change your mind. Have a good day, Kenshin." Kenshin lowered his head and walked away as fast he could without breaking into a run. He could feel Yoshinobu's eyes on his back all the way down the road. It shook him more than he cared to admit. It wasn't until Kenshin was almost back that he realized he'd forgotten to buy taffy.

**I used a couple of Japanese words that might not be as familiar as the ubiquitous "baka deshi" et al., so I thought I'd insert a translation.**

_Maguro _- blue-fin tuna. I guess if you're a big sushi buff (I'm not) you know this.

_Zori _- those flat Japanese flip-flops (or sandals, whichever you prefer).

*Ahem* - I'm not sure at all about the average middle-class pay rate in Meiji times (I hate it when Wikipedia lets me down!), so if anyone knows, give me a holla. However, 10 mon is approximately a penny, and one kan is approximately $10. I don't know, it seemed reasonable to me. I based my pay guesses on American Civil War rates, then lowered it slightly. :-D Hope everyone's enjoying, and thanks for reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

**Meh. I feel like several of the sentences are clumsy and/or wordy but I'm tired of hashing them out. So if you find any you think would sound better a different way, feel free to offer input!! I love advice.**

"Are you done already?" Hiko asked as his deshi sat staring at his supper, a half-full bowl of rice. Kenshin jumped noticeably.

"I guess so." Hiko regarded him shrewdly. The boy always ate everything in front of him and unfailingly asked for more. Either he had slacked off in his training today−and Hiko would've known if that was the case−or something was weighing on his mind.

"You brought money back from buying food today." Hiko said, watching Kenshin's reactions closely.

"Hai."

"I would've thought you'd buy a treat with it."

"You didn't tell me I could."

"I don't know why that would stop you." Kenshin twitched and Hiko smiled to himself triumphantly. _Guilty_. "So what was it that made you forget all about stuffing your face with sugar at my expense?"

"I just forgot." Kenshin offered lamely. "I wanted to get back and practice." He had thrown himself into his training but Hiko didn't think for a second that was the reason Kenshin had failed to spend even one mon extra. It was time to take a stab in the dark.

"You didn't happen to meet anyone, did you?" Kenshin quelled the alarmed look in his eyes almost as soon as it appeared but Hiko caught it. "Who?" He demanded. He hadn't actually expected his guess to be correct, but now that he saw it was, a feeling of foreboding washed over him. Kenshin was staring at him with wide eyes. "Answer me, Kenshin."

The words spilled out of him then, as if he'd already bottled a speech and was dumping it out now as fast as possible. "It wasn't my fault, I was almost done but one of those men who came to visit last summer saw me and he started talking. He asked me about the assassination, he said I was really good, the kind of swordsman they need. He asked if I wanted to live with them but I told him I didn't, I was still training." Kenshin sucked in a breath. "He got really angry, I thought he was going to−do something but then he just smiled."

"And I suppose you bought all the drivel he told you about how you were good enough for a murder mission." Hiko said. He ignored the hurt look in Kenshin's eyes. No doubt the moron had gobbled up every last flattering word the man had thrown him.

"No! I mean−I thought−I am good enough, aren't I?" Kenshin's words hung in the air. Hiko could've slapped the boy for asking him such a question at a time like this. There was no way Kenshin had considered anything other than physical prowess when talking about being "good enough." No matter what Hiko answered, it gave his pupil a reason for taking Yoshinobu up on his offer. A heavy silence settled over the two swordsmen while Hiko weighed his options. Kenshin stared at him with undisguised optimism, and Hiko realized there was only one answer he could give.

"No."

"No?" Emotions flitted across Kenshin's face, too fast to follow. Then his face darkened. "Yoshinobu-san was right! You just want to be able to tell everyone that someone as dumb as me can learn if you teach them!" He shoved himself to his feet, body quivering. "Well you can't! Because I quit!" Kenshin made as if to leave but Hiko slammed his fists on the table.

"Baka! You don't understand anything! Can't you see what that man's trying to do?"

"He's trying to help! He's trying to help Hiten Mitsurugi, shishou, but you never want help! Now you're not even going to have a student!" Insolent whelp. It took all of Hiko's self-restraint not to send Kenshin flying into a wall.

"I still have a student, Kenshin!" He roared. "Just a failed one who bought some candied words for the price of giving up!"

"I didn't want to give up!" Kenshin shouted back. "But all you do is say I'm not good enough so why should I waste my time!" He stormed towards the door then.

"Kenshin!" Hiko buried the twinge he felt as Kenshin's shoulders lifted hopefully. "You're using my sword. I'll need it back for my next student." It was the last straw for his deshi. Kenshin's composure crumbled, and tears coursed down his face as he ripped the sword from his hakama, throwing it at Hiko's feet.

"Here! I hope your n-next student isn't as−as bad as me!" The door slammed, and Hiko stared down at the master-less sword. He'd thought the moron would rethink his actions if told to give up his sword. Apparently he'd thought wrong. Something almost like regret pooled inside him. He wasn't really sure; it had been a while since he'd felt anything like that. He wondered fleetingly if he'd done the right thing, then brushed his worries aside. Of course he had. He knew he'd deeply hurt Kenshin, and the boy probably hated him, but hopefully he would come to understand Hiko's reasoning. If not−well, Hiko would think about that if the time came.

**_Hiko probably could have worded his answer about Kenshin's skill a little better, huh? He needs to learn some more communication skills before he takes on another student. :) Guess where Kenshin's headed now!_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Finally another chapter with some meat! Sorry for the shorter last one. I wanted it to be longer but it did all I needed it to do; I felt like anything else I wrote would have been extraneous. Check out A/N at the end, my use of the characters' ages and timeline are explained.**

It was strange, walking without a sword at his side. Kenshin felt as if a part of him had been cut off. When Hiko had asked for his sword, Kenshin had been on the verge of recanting everything he'd said. Then he'd remembered the conviction with which Hiko had spoken that one word, "no." There was no hesitation there, no trace of insincerity. His master truly thought he lacked the ability to become a master of Hiten Mitsurugi. The knowledge was almost enough to break his spirit. But it was also something of a relief.

Kenshin was under no illusion that he was unskilled with the sword. Of course he was good. What did it matter though, if it wasn't good enough for his teacher? If he couldn't perform at the level of mastery that was necessary for the style he studied, then he wasn't good enough. Kenshin would just have to go where his skills would be appreciated, where his level of talent would be taken at face value. He was doing Hiko and himself a favor by letting both of them get on with their lives.

Kenshin recalled Yoshinobu's words, _I'm here every morning_. Unfortunately, daylight was hours away, and now that the intensity of his emotions were waning, he was beginning to feel the chill in the air. Briefly, he regretted his impulsivity, wishing he'd waited until Hiko had gone to bed and then snuck away. Then he could have brought a jacket _and_ kept his sword. Too late now, he'd just make the best of it.

The only place Kenshin knew to go was the market. It was surrounded by a small town, and there might still be people up who would take pity on him for the night.

The moon was almost full and the road ahead had a luminous sheen to it. The scene had an eerie quality of déjà vu. Kenshin could picture all too clearly a tragic moon-lit night several years earlier, and he felt afraid for the first time in years. It was like he was a helpless eight-year-old all over again. If only he still had his sword. At least then he could fend off any dangers that might threaten.

It almost seemed as if his line of thinking caused the following events. Still wrapped up in his recollection of the past, Kenshin felt several presences impossible to ignore, their ki charged with evil intent. At least he had something still available to him from his training.

Kenshin's heart thudded against his chest. What should he do? He could tell the ki was behind him, but it was spreading out and moving closer with swift surety. No doubt he was being closed into a circle. He couldn't just let what was sure to be a group of grown men surround him; he had nothing to fight them with. He knew a smattering of martial arts, but as his shishou so often liked to remind him, his size and bone structure made him pitifully inept at inflicting bodily punishment.

That left only one option, one that even his shishou praised him for.

Run.

The speed with which Kenshin's feet touched the ground left a wake of dust that shimmered in the moonlight. Kenshin moved as fast as he ever had, thinking it was ironic that he'd ended up with the element of surprise. He hoped he could gain a sizable lead before whoever was following him realized their prey was escaping.

It didn't take long. Kenshin surmised he'd only got three meters before there was a shout. "Go after him! Now!" He heard the pounding of feet behind him, then, "Whoever was careless enough to tip him off is going to answer to me after this!" Kenshin would have laughed in a lighter situation. The yelling man's ki was the first he had noticed.

Although Kenshin's speed had given him a sizable lead he could hear the men behind him catching up. He was unbelievably fast for his age, but a grown man could still outstrip him in brute speed, if not stamina. If he didn't do something, and fast, they were going to catch him. He was at a loss for solutions though. The trees on either side of the road weren't thick enough for even his slender frame, and there weren't near enough to disappear into. Panic began to grab hold of him and he forced himself to think logically. Ahead, he saw the grove of bamboo that led to the market. Great, even worse to hide in than trees. Then inspiration struck and he had a wild idea. One that could turn events in his favor if only it worked.

Kenshin ran towards the bamboo, bringing his ki in tight around him. Hand flattened, he swung it the first clump of bamboo he reached. There was a sharp, electric crack and three stalks toppled sideways, split cleanly. There was no time for celebration. He already sensed the first man was less than five feet behind him.

Faster than a blink, Kenshin slid sideways, a stalk of bamboo in either hand. He moved with practiced ease, panic beside him as he did what he knew best. One of the makeshift weapons swept across the ground, knocking the man's feet from under him. Almost simultaneously Kenshin lifted the other stalk high in the air and swung it down to meet the man's forehead. The man fell backwards and lay still, a trickle of blood coming from his hairline. Holding one stalk to protect his front and the other off to the side, Kenshin faced his attackers.

The rest of the men had caught up, four of them, five including the man Kenshin had just incapacitated. Panting and wheezing, they eyed Kenshin with disbelief, and even though their swords were out they seemed unsure what to do.

Confident now that he was fitted with a weapon, Kenshin moved his gaze quickly from face to face, committing them to memory. When he looked at the fourth man, shock made his jaw fall open. "Yoshinobu-san! It's me, Kenshin!" The other three men looked at each other in confusion. An indecipherable expression crossed Yoshinobu's face, and then he lowered his sword, mouth hardening into a cold smile.

"I know exactly who you are, little deshi. And I know just how you're going to help us convince your master to do us this favor." Kenshin had a sinking feeling that Yoshinobu had never wanted his help . He was just bait.

"I was coming to find you though. I told shishou I−I was going . . ." Kenshin trailed off. Current circumstances warranted he didn't share too much information.

"Oh, our reconnaissance man heard everything you told Seijurou." Yoshinobu said smoothly. "In fact, it worked out much better for us this way." Too much was being thrown at Kenshin at once. They'd followed him to Hiko's hut and spied on him? "You see, we do need you Kenshin. Maybe not for the reason I first mentioned. It's imperative that this−assassination take place. And also imperative that none of us are tied to the event. Hiko is the perfect candidate. He answers to no one and will be considered merely a rogue samurai, unhappy with the current state of affairs. But unfortunately, he is a hard man to reason with." Yoshinobu took a step towards Kenshin and he stiffened in response, raising the bamboo ever so slightly. "I think he'll be much more agreeable when he finds his deshi an enemy of the state marked for death."

Kenshin's heart skipped a beat and his mouth went dry. How could he be marked for death when he hadn't done anything? "It won't work." Somehow he projected confidence into his tone. "I left shishou, I'm not his student anymore. He doesn't care what happens to me. He even took my sword away."

Yoshinobu threw his head back and laughed. "Of course he did. Lucky for us, eh? But I'm fairly certain that even your hard-hearted master will sing a different tune when he learns your fate. Now," Yoshinobu hefted his sword and the guard clinked against the handle. "Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

The words brought Kenshin a measure of focus, and he set his mouth grimly. He couldn't afford to lose this fight. For his sake and his master's. He watched Yoshinobu carefully, intuitively knowing he was the most skilled of the three men who circled him.

Wait−three? _Where is the fourth_?

The sound of rushing air met his ears and realization came too late. Kenshin whirled even as a heavy rope settled over him and pinioned his arms at his side. Before he could react he had been yanked to the ground, the bamboo kicked from his grasp, his legs quickly and efficiently bent behind his back and tied. Then he was pulled to his knees. Yoshinobu walked towards him, sword still out.

"You didn't really think you were good enough to escape my men?" He asked mildly. "I am head of the most highly trained swordsmen in Kyoto. Although your master would certainly give us a run for our money." He conceded.

Kenshin strained mightily against his restraints but there was no give. Yoshinobu reached out and patted him on the head gently. "Patience, Kenshin. You'll be free soon enough. Although I think you'll find this situation much more enjoyable than the one you're going to be in." There were scattered laughs. "We'd better wrap this up," Yoshinobu addressed his men. "We don't want the early travelers to find us enjoying the sunrise." Yoshinobu lifted his hand a fraction. It was so casually done Kenshin hardly noticed the sword hilt headed his way. The heavy wood cracked against his skull, and fell wordlessly onto the road amidst visions of brightly flashing lights.

***

Yoshinobu sheathed his sword as he stared at the small form crumpled on the ground. Bound as he was, the boy was no bigger than a large dog. It was a shame Seijurou wouldn't listen to reason, because in another few years his deshi could be a useful ally. "Ah well, you can't have everything." Yoshinobu murmured. There was movement from the man Kenshin had knocked out, and Yoshinobu took his attention from the boy.

"Did we get him?" The man on the ground asked blearily, wincing and holding a hand to his head as he sat up.

"We did, Kaga." Yoshinobu turned to see two of his men emerging from the bamboo grove with several horses and a cart. Another of his men threw a grain sack over Kenshin. Kaga stood slowly. "I'm sorry, Yoshinobu-san. I didn't think he would-he could-"

"Break the bamboo?" Yoshinobu asked.

"Yeah. It's impossible! Shindou couldn't even do that!" Kaga indicated the swarthy man leading the cart, his arms bulging with muscles.

"Not impossible. Improbable." Yoshinobu bent and picked something off the ground. He held it aloft for his men to see.

"What's the big deal about a torn leaf?" Kaga scoffed.

"Not just any tear. This was split with ki." Yoshinobu bent again and grabbed one of the fallen stalks of bamboo. "That's how he did this." Everyone's eyes strayed to where Kenshin had lay seconds earlier. "A kenki that strong . . ." Yoshinobu spoke as if to himself, brow furrowed. "It's no wonder Seijurou took him as a student." He stood deep in thought for several moments, then raised his gaze to the heavens. Liquid blackness still cloaked the sky. "Alright, let's get started. It's a long way to Edo."

**_Wah_-? you say. Kenshin got snagged by a lasso? Yes, he did. My reasoning is that he's still quite young and hasn't developed his senses anywhere near the point they're at when he's a hitokiri. Also, despite the fact that Hiten Mitsurugi is designed to pit one against many, Kenshin has had little to no experience with fighting multiple opponents at this point in his life.**

**A/N**: Does it bug anyone else about the Kenshin-gumi's age discrepancies in the anime versus the manga? It bugs me A LOT. The only age relevant to this story though is Kenshin's. According to Kenshin's birthyear in "Profiles," and Hiko's reference to the black ships in the manga, Kenshin is 6, maybe 7, when he meets Hiko, not 8 or 9.

To get to the point though, Kenshin is 10 when my story begins (1859), and I'm assuming he met Hiko as a 7-year-old.

Thanks to Mistress Ayesha and ZukoFlame for being faithful reviewers! Hugs! To answer your question, ZukoFlame, this is not an AU of how Kenshin joins the Ishin Shishi. Although these events definitely would have helped steer him in that direction.

As for Hiko going after his zealous deshi - there's a very good chance he'll miss his personal errand boy enough to wonder what he's up to. *grins*


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the delay, this chapter gave me all sorts of hell. (Also, I confess, I'm on spring break this week, so I got a little lazy with writing) I'm not incredibly pleased with it but if I rewrite it one more time I might shoot myself. It's serviceable at least, so here we go.**

Kenshin was woken by his shishou in a variety of ways each morning. Rolled off his mat, water poured over his head, futon pulled from under him−the list was unending. The rough shaking accompanied by a cutting pain in his arms was a new one though, and Kenshin had to admit it was effective, if cruel. He opened his mouth to protest and found it was stuffed with course cloth. Memory returned in a rush and Kenshin's eyes flew open, his senses firing. He couldn't see anything, but from the frequent jolts and the sound of creaking wood and hooves he knew he must be in some type of wagon. The rope around his arms was causing the pain.

The whole world turned topsy turvy then, and a burning sensation raked up his body. Morning light streamed into his eyes and he squeezed them shut at the abrupt brightness.

"Oi!" Kenshin opened his eyes in increments and found he was kneeling on the ground, facing the man he had knocked out with his bamboo sword. Kenshin was aware of the hand around his neck, light but firm. His eyes took in an empty brown sack on the floor next to him and surmised it had caused the burning sensation when it was pulled off. Forgetting he was gagged, he tried to speak again, and a comical burst of grunts issued from his throat. The man laughed and Kenshin felt his face flush.

"Sorry boy, we didn't want you to wake up screaming." Kenshin glared and looked the man in the eyes. "You're a feisty thing, aren't you?" The man appeared less than intimidated by Kenshin's gaze. "I suppose you want to know what's going on? I should make you wait it out. My head's killing me, you know." He reached towards Kenshin. "But you're just a kid." Kenshin tried to jerk away but the hand on his neck prevented him. The man gave a wry smile and grabbed the cloth from Kenshin's mouth. "Calm down." He dropped his eyes, surveying Kenshin's rope-burned arms. "Here, I'll loosen those for you before they leave too much of a mark."

The man's fingers worked agilely, and the biting pressure in Kenshin's arms disappeared. "No need for you to be hog-tied anymore." In one swift motion the man lifted Kenshin and turned him on his side. Pins and needles shot up Kenshin's legs as they slowly uncurled from being pressed into his back.

Surprised by this unexpected kindness, Kenshin maneuvered himself to face the man. His benefactor was studying him with mild curiosity. Kenshin eyed the katana sheathed at the man's waist, so tantalizingly close. If he could distract him while some blood flowed back into his limbs . . .

"I wouldn't, if I were you." Kenshin started. The man patted his sword knowingly. "You really think I'd allow you so much movement if I couldn't handle it? You've got some fine training, but I have the advantage. I'd have this sword at your neck before you could lay a finger on it."

Kenshin wondered if he was bluffing; decided testing that theory wasn't worth the risk. He was in no position to make a bid for escape anyway. "So," The man leaned backwards with a loud exhale. "You should be a little more comfortable now."

Kenshin's mouth was dry as his master's humor, so he just nodded. "Good. We're not trying to hurt you, so if you do as you're told, nothing's gonna happen." Kenshin wasn't sure he believed that but there was little he could do about it. "I suppose you're wondering what we want with you, huh? I think you already know what Yoshinobu wants from Seijurou."

"Yes." Kenshin's mouth was still regaining moisture and the word was hoarse.

"You, my friend, are a security deposit, so to speak." When Kenshin looked blank, the man explained, "Until Seijurou agrees to help, you stay with us."

"Where are we going then?" Kenshin asked, glad that he was able to formulate words again.

"Edo. That's where we're based."

"Edo?" Edo was hundreds of miles away. Kenshin knew there was a great castle there but he had never been. A thought occurred to him. "Shishou doesn't know I'll be there though." He didn't voice his silent concern, that since he'd abandoned his training, his shishou might not even care enough to come after him.

"Don't worry about it, Yoshinobu-san has thought everything through. I'm not sure exactly what his plans are, but he's quite confident that Seijurou will come, and he'll know exactly where to find you."

Kenshin couldn't help but worry. There were too many what-ifs in the situation. What if his shishou couldn't find him? What if he didn't care enough to try? What if the death sentence Yoshinobu had mentioned meant he was going to be killed? What if his master came to save him and _he_ was killed? Kenshin was almost sick thinking about it. He knew now he should have kept his promise and heeded his shishou's request to stay away from these men.

"Hey, boy, you listening?" Kenshin realized a hand was being waved in front of his face. "Pay attention, because we have a lot of stops to make before we get to Edo. Yoshinobu doesn't have enough faith in you to leave you in the wagon overnight so you'll be posing as my son. You're to speak to no one, even if they talk to you. Keep a hold of my hand at all times. When I move, you move. Disobey any of these and suffer the consequences. Understand?" Kenshin nodded. He didn't ask what the consequences were; he was certain they wouldn't be pleasant. "Good. We'll be coming into Ishibe in a few more moments to rest until dark. I'm going to take the rest of these off." The man set to work removing the ropes still around Kenshin.

Kenshin sat miserably, the seriousness of his situation just beginning to creep up on him. "This'll be over in a week or so. Just pray your master's stubbornness is short-lived." That was exactly what Kenshin was worried about. His master was never one to back down.

The wagon began slowing and soon it rolled to an uneven stop. Voices, varied and numerous, floated through the cloth sides. "Kaga, get ready back there!" Someone from the front of the wagon called.

"We're set!" The man guarding Kenshin replied. He leveled a finger. "Remember, follow my lead." He stepped out of the wagon and turned, holding out a hand. "Come on, son, we don't want to be late."

The sudden change in tone and behavior was so convincing that Kenshin didn't find it difficult at all to take Kaga's hand, saying, "Hai, otou-san." Some small part of him enjoyed calling someone "father" again, even if only as a morbid farce.

Kenshin's senses were assailed the moment he stepped from the wagon. He had never been out of Kyoto before and he found Ishibe intriguing. He stared at the people hurrying about, some wearing traditional dress, a few in starched Western suits; there were even two porcelain-faced geisha shuffling along, elegant kimono seeming to float above the dusty ground. The smell of fresh bread and foreign spices drifted in the breeze, mingling to create a delicious aroma. The smell was intoxicating, and Kenshin searched for the source, wishing he could try some. Kaga was pulling at his hand though, so he dragged his eyes from the fascinating scene.

They stopped in front of a sprawling two-story building with a balcony on the second level. A sign hung out front, swinging in the light breeze. Kenshin mouthed the characters slowly. "Shi-jo-ya. We're staying at an inn, Kaga-san?"

"Otou-san, _otou-san_." Kaga muttered from the side of his mouth. "And no talking in public, boy!" As he spoke a man came out from the inn, un-faded hakama and richly embroidered haori attesting to his wealth. A welcoming smile lit his features.

"Good day to you, visitors! Will you be staying the night at the Shijoya?"

Kaga answered. "Just the day. We've been traveling through the night already. I have five men with me and my son, we'll just need two rooms until evening falls. A quiet room would be appreciated."

"Mm, I think that can be arranged." Kenshin liked the innkeeper's jovial attitude. "We're not so busy this time of year. Heiji!" A rotund boy appeared as if from nowhere, wide smile a carbon copy of the innkeeper's.

"Hai!"

"Two rooms, as close to the back as possible." With a curt nod, the boy scurried off as quickly as he'd appeared.

The innkeeper continued talking. "My son, he helps with the family business. He's quite good at it, but unfortunately," he spread his hands with a melodramatic sigh, "he has a mind to be a swordsman." Kenshin's face must have shown something, because the innkeeper gestured at him. "Oh, I don't suppose you want to be a swordsman too?"

"I am one!" Kenshin blurted before he forgot he wasn't supposed to speak. Kaga's hand crushed his in warning.

"All boys have visions of being a great samurai." Kaga laughed.

"So true. But regretfully I told mine if he worked hard, I would do all I could to help further his training." The innkeeper gestured at Kenshin. "I bet Heiji would like to have a sparring match with you. What do you think, sir?" He asked Kaga. "Let two boys play out their dreams with each other."

"Oh, this one would let his fantasies run away with him if I allowed that." Kaga said. "He needs to spend more time concentrating on work. I don't want to encourage him in idleness such as swordplay."

"Nonsense!" The innkeeper was beckoning at Kenshin even as he spoke. "It might do him good, in fact. I find that letting boys indulge in play every once in a while helps them focus on work. Come, it won't hurt. I'd like to see how Heiji fares against another boy his age! I need to gauge if he has the ability to live this dream of his." Kenshin saw the look of frustration on Kaga's face and felt a shimmer of hope. Kaga didn't know how to respond to this unexpected situation. "It would mean a lot to me." The innkeeper pressed. "I would even go so far as to offer you a deal on your rooms."

Money must have been the right incentive because Kaga nodded. "I'd like to watch. I'm proud of my son's skills, even if he isn't meant to be a swordsman."

The innkeeper beamed, missing the warning look that Kaga gave Kenshin. "Wonderful! Heiji-kun," He greeted the boy as he returned, "this youngster fancies being a swordsman. I thought you two could have a match. Someone to measure your skills by."

Heiji's eyes went wide with delight. "That's great! Follow me, we can duel in the courtyard."

Kenshin trotted after him before Kaga could change his mind, studying Heiji as he moved. The innkeeper's son hardly looked like a worthy opponent. Even without a sword in his hand, his balance was off-center, and Kenshin felt only a flicker of ki. There was no way Heiji could hope to beat him, Kenshin was certain. He hoped Heiji could provide another shinai, or it would be a very short match.

The courtyard he followed Heiji to was large, with a small koi pond gracing the center and a zen garden running the length of the tall back fence. Heiji met Kenshin with a well-used shinai in hand, saying apologetically, "Otou-san doesn't let me use a real sword." Kaga spoke before Kenshin could reply.

"My boy only has a katana."

Heiji wasn't put off by this. "That's okay, I have an extra shinai!" He disappeared into a shed next to the porch and emerged with another wooden sword, its smoothness contrasting with Heiji's own scuff-marked one. "Here." Kenshin took it, surprised at its lightness. He'd always trained with a katana and had never held a shinai. He let the weight settle into his hand, feeling the handle rough against his palms. From the corner of his eye, he saw the innkeeper lead Kaga to the porch, the former talking animatedly. He knew that in a moment, the rest of Yoshinobu's men would be filing into the courtyard, all with swords at their waist. It was now or never.

Kenshin hefted the shinai, wondered fleetingly if the seemingly fragile weapon could hold up against the moves of Hiten Mitsurugi, then locked eyes with Heiji and muttered, "Sorry." Heiji looked at him, confusion crinkling his already dimpled face.

Kenshin swung the shinai.

Then all hell broke loose.

**Whew, done! Critiques are always welcome. Fighting and drama are upcoming! I'm psyched about the next chapter, it should be considerably easier to write than this one was. **

_Ayesha_**: ** _I thought the bamboo part was cool too, glad you liked it! _

_Ridicully L: Thanks! Hope I can keep up the good work._

_literaryrxn: Haha, oh, this is so just the beginning. Kenshin has no idea what he's got himself into! _

_I think I replied to everyone, but if I didn't, thanks for the review!!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Yay longer chapters! I hope the fight scenes aren't too confusing. It's written somewhat disjointedly for effect but maybe it's too much. Also, just a heads up, my updates will probably be a little more spaced now that the story's reached it's stride (wow, that doesn't make sense, does it?). I'll try not to make them longer than two weeks apart though! **

Kenshin didn't necessarily want to knock Heiji to the ground. He did, however, want to create general mayhem, and lighting into the oblivious innkeeper's son seemed like the best way to go about that. Kenshin's shinai caught Heiji in the ribs, striking with enough force to lift him off the ground and send him flying towards the porch, shinai still in hand. That would hurt a lot, later.

The innkeeper's mouth had fallen open and he stared, frozen in place, as Heiji hurtled his way. Kaga gave a shout of surprise and Kenshin knew he was just as startled by the turn of events, but his honed reflexes kicked in and he jumped aside. Flailing, Heiji crashed into his father, missing Kaga by inches, but his shinai swung up and landed squarely between Kaga's legs.

Kenshin was already moving, racing across the courtyard to the back fence. He heard Kaga's choked moan, saw him grab Heiji's shinai and throw it aside angrily. The wooden sword busted through one of the porch's shoji doors with a loud rip. There was the crash of broken pottery.

Kenshin didn't look back. He was at the fence now, and in one smooth move he leapt up and cleared the six foot barrier, landing lightly if a little unsteadily on a back road. There wasn't time to see how Heiji held up from the strike−Kenshin would just have to hope a broken rib was the most his would-be opponent would suffer.

Kenshin ran swiftly in the opposite direction the wagon had stopped, brushing past a stray dog and a servant, both of whom regarded him with bored curiosity. He could still hear the innkeeper calling Heiji's name with frantic worry. Kaga was bellowing, and already there were disjointed sounds of pursuit−commanding shouts, feet running one way, then screeching to a stop and turning another direction. At least they weren't sure which way he had gone. Still, Kenshin knew he wouldn't be difficult to find. He slipped into a narrow ally, determined to make as many turns as possible while still headed away from the inn.

The wall that stared him in the face came as a shock. Kenshin's eyes swept over the dead end. The wall in front of him probably belonged to a well-to-do inn, as it was entirely made of wood with not a trace of paper. Kenshin wasted valuable seconds debating whether to turn around or destroy part of a building. As he heard the yells and sounds of tramping feet in the street he'd just left, he realized there wasn't enough time to run out of the ally. Through the wall it was.

He busted through with a thrust of the shinai, revealing what appeared to be a kitchen filled with cooks and serving girls. Knives of different sizes were carefully arranged on tables and there were large pots hanging over several clay ovens, contents already bubbling. Kenshin ignored the questioning stares and indignant shouts, running for a doorway thirty feet away that he knew should lead into the main entrance. He was brought up short just before his goal, a hand latching onto his shirt and dragging him backwards.

"What do you think you're doing, boy? You're going to pay for that wall you ruined! I've half a mind to flay the skin off your back!" Kenshin spun, shinai swinging down even as he took in the short, knife-wielding man berating him.

"Hold him, hold him!" Yoshinobu was pushing his way through the damaged wall, katana out of its sheath, a mere jump from Kenshin.

Kenshin's shinai met bone with a sickening crack, and the man holding him screeched with pain, dropping his knife and grabbing at his broken wrist. At the same moment, Yoshinobu leapt forward, katana aimed at Kenshin's throat.

Kenshin grabbed the closest thing at hand−a bowl of cold vegetables−and threw it at Yoshinobu's face as he rolled out of the way, grabbing the fallen knife as he did so. Yoshinobu knocked the dish away with a hand, his katana missing its target and slicing cleanly through one of the clay ovens. An open bed of embers glowed brightly, and sparks flew through the room. Kenshin winced as several landed on him.

The occupants of the kitchen were fleeing, only a couple staying to stare helplessly as their workplace was slowly decimated. Nobody noticed the as a handful of embers lodged in one of the walls.

One courageous man clasped his hands together pleadingly and inched closer to Yoshinobu, bent almost double in an obsequious bow. "Please, sir, take your fight outside! This is a very expensive kitchen! My m-" Blood flew from the man's mouth as the hilt of Yoshinobu's katana slammed into it.

"Shut up!" That was all it took for the stragglers to leave, leaving their coworker to cower on the floor near the ruined oven.

Kenshin stood with his back to the door, knife in one hand, shinai in the other. Just beyond the doorway, he could hear panicked voices, knew that the kitchen workers were telling anyone in the vicinity what was happening. There was a clatter behind Yoshinobu, and Kaga and two other men shoved their way in, panting. Yoshinobu chuckled and leveled his sword at Kenshin. "Well, this is familiar, isn't it?"

Kenshin gripped his weapons tighter, sneezing as the tangy scent of scorched pine crept into his nose. He could run and try to find a crowd to disappear into but maybe it would be wiser to incapacitate as many men as he could first. He wasn't sure how many people were traveling with the wagon, but he didn't think it was more than ten. If he could defeat these men, he would cut that number in half. That would give him a much better chance of leaving Ishibe without being tracked.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" Yoshinobu persisted. "Are you going to give up without a fight, or do we need to knock you out this time too?" Yoshinobu's men were standing just behind the ruined oven, and Kenshin knew he couldn't get away without a fight. He would deal with Yoshinobu first.

"You're going to have to fight me." Kenshin snapped, counting on Yoshinobu to react with humor. As Kenshin expected, Yoshinobu threw his head back to laugh, and with a sharp flick of his wrist Kenshin threw the knife in his hand at Yoshinobu's arm. Kenshin saw one of the men reach forward to warn their leader, but he was too slow. The knife lodged deep in the soft crook of Yoshinobu's sword arm, and he screamed, katana falling to the floor as he hunched over, grabbing at the knife. Kenshin used the moment to leap over Yoshinobu's crouched form, spinning as he did so to hit the man in the head with his shinai. One down.

The man who had tried to warn Yoshinobu growled and swung at Kenshin's neck. Perfect. Kenshin stepped backwards, and the man leaned forward for a hit. His foot caught on the edge of the oven Yoshinobu had sliced, and he fell face first onto the uncovered embers. The man rolled over screaming, and Kenshin hastily looked away at the sight of his face, ugly red and already blistering.

"Kill that brat!" Somehow, the man managed to speak, and Kenshin pulled the shinai into a defensive position as Kaga and the other man still standing looked at him venomously. Kenshin stared at them, eyes daring them to attack. They had to, otherwise his plan wasn't going to work.

A loud pop issued from off to the side, and as Kenshin and his two opponents gave a hasty glance, the walls of the kitchen burst into crackling flames. For a brief second the scent of pine was overpowering, and then a wave of heat swept it away, its power almost enough to force Kenshin to the floor. He remained standing with an effort, trying to keep his shinai steady and wondering what had just happened. The stray embers must have kept alight in the walls until the wood finally caught fire. On the bright side, Kenshin no longer had to worry about seeing his plan to fruition. Kaga and the other man were backing into the street, shielding their face with their arms as they passed through the hole in the wall now surrounded by hungry flames.

Kenshin lowered his shinai and looked around, coughing as smoke quickly filled the room and crept into his lungs. The doorway he'd been trying to get to earlier was still relatively free of flames. He could make it through before the kitchen turned into a complete inferno. He hesitated though. The cook wounded by Yoshinobu had long since scurried off but Yoshinobu was unconscious, and the man who had been burned was still lying on the floor, his breathing shallow. Kenshin was torn. If he left the men he was essentially a murderer. But he couldn't ignore the fact that they'd just tried to kill him. Either way, there was no way he could save both of them.

Caught in his dilemma, Kenshin remained oblivious to the flames creeping higher. It wasn't until blessedly cool water splashed onto his skin that he became aware of the thickening smoke and the rising temperature.

"There's a boy in here!" Someone ran forward and grabbed his arm. "What are you doing, idiot? Get out!" Kenshin was shoved through the doorway, and someone else took him, yelling and pulling him away from the burning building. More men ran past, water sloshing out of the buckets they carried.

Kenshin let himself be led away from the scene, yielding under the firm hand that shoved him to the ground and obeying the stern command to sit and rest. His throat felt constricted and he began coughing uncontrollably. Kenshin guessed he had probably come close to dying while deciding whether or not to save his enemies.

As his coughing fit died down, he wiped his eyes and saw that he was sitting in the middle of the main road, either side lined with large inns and compact merchant shops. The fire had spread quickly down the line of tightly-spaced buildings, and the street was crowded with businessmen and travelers, all trying to save their livelihoods. No one was paying the least attention to Kenshin.

Kenshin allowed himself a small smile, and gripping his shinai he got to his feet, walking to the side of the road free of fire. This certainly qualified as general mayhem.

He didn't think he could pull of running just yet, but he walked as quickly as his overheated body would allow, glad that everyone rushing past was focused on the fire. Yoshinobu would probably expect him to turn back immediately, so Kenshin was going to make his way to the next town before taking a roundabout route back to Kyoto.

Kenshin wended his way through the narrow alleys, mind wandering. He was wondering what he would say to his shishou when he returned. He'd have to admit he had been wrong, and just the thought of it stung. Still, it was a small price to pay to return to the relative safety of his master's home. It would be nice if he could find a horse somewhere; Kenshin didn't know how far the next town was and a horse would make the journey less lonely.

"Arrogant." The word made Kenshin's heart beat double time, and he spun around with both hands on his shinai. A man stood in the alley hardly ten feet behind him, his long dark hair pulled tight into a ponytail. His right hand hung at his side with deceptive tranquility, holding a sword from his daishou. Kenshin swallowed. It was the man who had visited Hiko with Yoshinobu. Where Yoshinobu's ki was obviously malevolent though, Kenshin couldn't read this man's aura. That worried him.

"You think you can just run behind a few corners and be impossible to find?" Kenshin didn't respond. "Your ki shines like a beacon, boy. Kenshin, wasn't it?" Kenshin wasn't sure why he nodded. "Yes, I can see how much you've learned from Seijurou. You arrogant twit, thinking your clever fighting skills will be enough."

Kenshin felt obligated to defend his master. "I-"

"Arrogant!" The man interrupted sharply. "Leaving your aura unmasked like that, as if no one could read it."

"My ki . . ." Kenshin stammered, the words falling like rain on a summer day. _Why_ hadn't he thought to hide his aura? Where had his training gone?

"You see now?" The man still wasn't making a move toward him. "So let me ask you, now that you find yourself like this," He made an all-encompassing gesture, "do you think Arimura Jisaemon will be as stupid as his men and fall for some pathetic attempt at trickery?" Kenshin's temper rose at the insult.

"Well if they're your men you're the one who trained them."

"Yes, and thankfully I only trusted them to get this far." Jisaemon lifted his katana lazily, inspecting the blade. "From what I remember of last summer, you have some talent as a swordsman. Humor me with a duel, would you?" The question was more of a courtesy than a request; he was already moving forward, deliberately slow.

Kenshin's hands were sweaty on the shinai. Either Jisaemon was certain he had superior skills, or he knew his men were close by and just wanted a chance to test Kenshin. Either way looked bad.

The pony-tailed man gave an inarticulate yell then and suddenly he was racing forward and Kenshin had no time left to think. He was fairly certain his shinai would be cleaved like a vegetable if he actually used it, so he was going to have to play keep away.

Kenshin jumped up at the last possible second, just as Jisaemon's katana stabbed outwards, and flipped behind his attacker. He pivoted mid-flip and swung the shinai at the man's exposed back. A gleaming sword appeared as if by magic though, expertly blocking Kenshin's blow.

"Ah, well done! How do you respond to this?" Kenshin managed to duck under the kick aimed at his chest, feeling the whoosh of air above him. Without pause he barreled forward, his head crashing into Jisaemon's stomach. Jisaemon staggered backwards several steps, but didn't fall to the ground.

_Kuso_. A tearing pain coursed over his scalp then and Kenshin bit back a cry. Jisaemon was pulling him up by his hair. "I told you, tricks won't work."

Kenshin just gritted his teeth and cocked his right leg back, swinging it between Jisaemon's thighs, hard. The grip on Kenshin's hair loosened slightly, but then he was slammed into the ground, his face scraping against the road. "I thought you knew how to fight with a sword, _Kenshin_, is this all you have?" Kenshin lifted his head, saw that Jisaemon was standing over him, daishou dangling at his side. Kenshin didn't think; his hand shot out and grabbed the wakizashi at Jisaemon's waist, ripping it from the man's hakama. In the next breath Kenshin sprang backwards, holding his new weapon at the ready. _Now_ he could fight.

"I wondered how long that would take." Jisaemon didn't seem the least upset. "Now that we're evenly matched, I won't have to go easy on you."

Kenshin didn't have time to ponder the meaning of that. Jisaemon lunged at him, his sword a silver blur. It was all Kenshin could do just to block, never mind retaliate, and he realized it was a losing battle. Still, he refused to give up. Jisaemon must slip up _sometimes_.

He saw the mistake almost immediately afterwards, Jisaemon's hands loosening almost unnoticeably as he raised his katana. Kenshin struck then, aiming for the base of Jisaemon's sword. Metal sheared against metal and sparks flew. Then Jisaemon's sword spun from his hands, clanging against the wall before clattering to the ground. Kenshin's victory was short-lived though. He'd had to compromise his distance because of the shorter length of the wakizashi, and when Jisaemon's hand shot out he was close enough to grab Kenshin by the neck.

"Not bad, not bad." Kenshin tried to breathe but the hold on his neck was too tight. "Yoshinobu was right, in a few more years you'd be a great asset. We don't have that kind of time though." Kenshin opened his mouth, trying to speak, breathe, anything. Jisaemon was unsympathetic. "Sorry, you lost fairly. Now accept the ramifications." As all remaining air left him, Kenshin felt oddly comforted. He had disarmed Jisaemon. On a good day, he might even be able to beat him. Which meant . . .

_He's not as good as shishou_. And with this thought, Kenshin fell into the encroaching blackness.

**Jisaemon's a little more hard-core than Yoshinobu. Kenshin didn't really h****a****ve a chanc****e with him. Looks like he's going all the way to Edo! That's proabably not a surprise, is it? ;) If you're wondering what the hell Hiko's doing, he's going to make an appearance soon, if not the next chapter, definitely the one after that. **

_ZukoFlame: _I hope the fight scene delivered! And wishing you good luck on your chapter, I can't wait to read it whenever it's done!!

_literaryrxn: _Yup, you hit the nail on the head!

_t42n24t2: _Indeed

_Ayesha: _Haha, hardcore, I like that!


	9. Chapter 9

Explanation for the longish update time: My puppy chewed my laptop battery charger the day after I posted the last chapter, therefore making my computer unable to boot since the battery is unable to hold a charge and is dead dead dead. So then I had to order a new charger which took a week to get here, and by then I was bogged down with extra rehearsals for Easter, and blah blah blah. Hopefully back on track now.

**Um . . . yeah, my muse died somewhat on this chapter, but things should pick back up in the next chapter or two. This in between stuff is tough to write.**

Kenshin's movement was severely limited after that eventful morning. He wasn't sure what words had passed between Yoshinobu and the citizens of Ishibe, but when he was awoken by the rough jostling of wheels rolling over uneven road, Kenshin knew they had left the post town. If the brightness streaming into the covered wagon was anything to go by, either he'd been unconscious for more than a day−unlikely−or they hadn't stayed long.

Kenshin found he was again tied hand and foot, although he wasn't covered by a sack, and strangely there was no gag in his mouth. The rope around his arms was pressing into one of the small burns he'd acquired, and Kenshin began shrugging his shoulders in an effort to redistribute the pressure. He heard a faint rustle from nearby in and Kenshin's eyes moved to the source of the sound. He saw Kaga, his hand touching the hilt of his sword in warning. Kenshin almost didn't recognize the man because his face was so badly bruised and swollen.

"You're going to be in those ropes until we reach Edo." Kaga said matter-of-factly, seeming to speak without trouble despite his injuries. "One fire burning down half a post town is already more attention than we want." Well, Kenshin guessed he should have expected something like that. Still, the knowledge that the ropes would be biting into him for an unspecified amount of time−he really wasn't sure _how_ long it took to get to Edo−was enough to bring a cloud of despair over his thoughts. He'd been _so close_.

Kenshin tried to swallow the ashy taste pervading his mouth but his dry throat refused to cooperate. "Could I have some water, please?" He asked hoarsely. Politeness couldn't hurt.

"You want water?" Kaga said softly. "You run away from me, start a fire, and you want water? This is what Jisaemon did to me because of you!" He stabbed a finger at his swollen face.

"I'm sorry." Kenshin offered uselessly, wishing anyone but Kaga was with him right now. "I just wanted to leave! I didn't mean for you to be punished."

"Of course you didn't." Kaga sneered. "But you know what? I'm a forgiving person. I'll give you some water. For a price."

Kenshin wasn't sure he'd like the price but he was desperate for water. "What?" The words were hardly out of his mouth when one of Kaga's feet met his side, catching under his ribs. Somehow Kenshin managed to keep from crying out but when Kaga followed up with a punch to his temple, Kenshin couldn't help the sharp cry that escaped him. He managed not to pass out, even though hundreds of strobe lights danced in front of him. He felt blood trickle onto his cheek, and from somewhere far away heard Kaga speaking. Something about conditions and being lucky, but Kenshin couldn't follow it all because his head was reeling.

Then he felt as if he was being drowned in a waterfall, and as he coughed and spluttered Kenshin realized Kaga was done with his petty revenge and was pouring water onto his face. "Open your mouth, damnit." Kaga snapped.

Kenshin obeyed, and sweet liquid poured into his mouth. It was lukewarm, and soaking his clothes as it splashed everywhere, but Kenshin didn't care. The horrible taste in his mouth was fading, and even though it hurt his throat to swallow, the water made him feel better in general. Kaga stoppered the flask far too soon for Kenshin. "No more until we stop again. I'm not cleaning up piss." Kaga sat back down and leveled a watchful gaze at his charge, and for the rest of the journey not a word passed between them.

The wagon ground to a stop just as daylight began to fade. Kaga roused himself then, and with methodical care he bent over Kenshin, tying a gag around his mouth before covering him with the scratchy brown sack. "Don't move." He instructed. The command was frustratingly hard to obey, as Kenshin's bruised side protested with the rough movement. It didn't help either that he'd had to go to the bathroom for some time now. He hadn't said anything because he had a feeling his needs were low on the priority list.

Despite all this, Kenshin did his best not to squirm as Kaga hefted him carelessly over a shoulder and jumped from the wagon, causing unpleasant sensations throughout Kenshin's body. They waited there for a minute, and Kenshin heard voices close by, talking steadily. The voices ceased and someone must have beckoned because Kaga's shoulder moved under Kenshin.

Kenshin sensed when they moved inside: the soft spring breeze died abruptly and the outside sounds became muted. A sickly-sweet smell filled his nose, as if someone had tried to cover a bad aroma with perfume. After what seemed an eternity Kenshin was dropped to the ground and his side flared with pain. As he wheezed to catch his breath Kaga pulled the sack off of him.

They were in a sparse room, with only a small wooden table as decoration. An unlit lantern sat in the middle of the table, looking lonely. Cheaply woven tatmi mats covered the floor, and door that led to the balcony didn't quite slide completely shut. "Thanks to you this was the best we could get." Kaga spoke, prodding Kenshin in a way that made him remember he _really_ had to go to the bathroom. He was wondering how he could convey this when Kaga pulled the gag from his mouth. Ignoring the pain this caused his split cheek Kenshin parted his lips to speak but caught himself when Kaga pointed a finger at him.

"I'll be more than happy to use this if you give me an excuse." Kaga patted his sword. "Oh, and if you utter even one word, Jisaemon said he'll do more than just choke you silly." At this point Kenshin was willing to take that chance.

"I have to pee!" He stage whispered. Kaga stared at him, then rolled his eyes.

"Great, of course you do." He turned and left the room without another word and returned shortly, carrying a shallow pot. Setting the pot on the floor, he propped Kenshin on his knees and reached for the tie to his hakama. Kenshin tried to jerk away but Kaga shook him roughly. "Look kid, I don't like this any more than you, but I've been ordered not to untie you for _anything_, so either let me take your clothes off or you can wet yourself for all I care." Kenshin stopped struggling but his face was red with humiliation. When he had finished Kaga stood with a vindictive smile, leaving Kenshin's undergarments pulled down. "I think that should encourage you not to try going anywhere. Even if you figured out how to move, tied like that." And with a smirk, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Kenshin feeling very alone in the growing darkness.

***

The thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi sat against a wall of his hut, staring at the flames that danced before his half-lidded eyes. Nights were still cool in March, and the fire in Hiko's hut crackled strongly, warming the tiny dwelling from the light spring winds that still held some of winter's chill. Four jars lay cast on the floor near Hiko's side, their moisture-darkened rims testament to a secondary method of warmth; warmth that was far more satisfactory than any flame.

As he let the flames hypnotize his less-than-sober mind, Hiko's thoughts spun circles. He told himself he could care less that his deshi had quit on him. _He_ could carry on just fine, like he had before he'd taken on an unappreciative student; before he'd had to listen to childish prattle; before he'd had another mouth to feed. Hiko admitted he was somewhat disappointed he had no one to run his errands and cook for him. And he had enjoyed bestowing his life philosophies and the principles of Hiten Mitsurugi on Kenshin. As recent circumstances proved though, obviously the brat hadn't been listening to a word he'd said.

And that, as he'd been telling himself for the past several hours, was exactly why it was best that the boy had left. There was little chance that Kenshin would wise up enough to see the error of his ways−Hiko had watched the boy practicing enough to know that Kenshin was about as bullheaded as they came. If a move didn't work for him the first time, he would try it a variety of ways until he succeeded, or wore himself out with his efforts. It was laudable for training purposes, and Hiko would never think of discouraging it, but it seemed Kenshin approached life no differently. Barring death, the boy would keep trying to live out his naive notions no matter how many times it bit him in the ass. And if that was what it took to knock sense into him . . . so be it. Hiko had done his part. He'd held back nothing.

_Perhaps I should have_. Hiko smothered the bug of doubt that threatened to find some shred of guilt. Neither guilt nor self doubt did anyone any good. They both led to mistakes; and mistakes, for a swordsman, were fatal.

Hiko lifted the sake jar that was wrapped around his right hand, brought it to his lips and took a swig. Yes, guilt never did anyone any good, and he was doing his damndest to run from it right now. It wasn't something he was comfortable even alluding to, the fact that a man such as himself could ever feel such a weak emotion, but in the privacy of his own thoughts with several jars of sake for companions, stranger things could have happened.

Kenshin's actions normally bothered Hiko as much as a horse fly: annoying, yes, but hardly worth dwelling on. This time, for some strange reason, he was plagued with uncertainty about the fate of his idiot student. It was simple instinct, but Hiko had never known his instincts to lead him astray. It had only been last night that Kenshin had left and Hiko hadn't been able to shake the feeling that his deshi had walked into a spider's web. The diaphanous threads seemed beautiful and alluring until one was trapped in the sticky mess. And that's when the spider made its move, wrapping its prey so effectively there was no means of escape without help.

Hiko knew he could have stopped Kenshin's departure by brute force−_should_ have, if his instincts were to be trusted−but the swordmaster had always been a supporter of letting Kenshin learn from his own mistakes. That was Hiko's internal predicament. Unthinkable as it was, it seemed Hiko was the one who had made the mistake. No matter how he played it out in his mind, he always came to the conclusion that in some small way, the blame for Kenshin's leaving lay with him. Of course it was absurd−Hiko Seijurou never made mistakes. He made calculated judgments, and they might seem harsh or a risky gambles a times, but they were never a mistake. It was this conflict that guilt was capitalizing on, using it to put a chink in his normally unsurpassable emotional armor.

"Baka deshi. Ruining what should be a peaceful night without even being here." Hiko grumbled. Just the fact that Kenshin had left was a passive insult, but what he'd left for . . . Just thinking about it was almost enough to send Hiko into a fit of rage. How dare Yoshinobu and Jisaemon, those two bastards, thinking they could manipulate Hiko Seijurou through his impudent student.

And how dare Kenshin! He might as well have gift-wrapped the opportunity for them, hanging on their every word and walking into their hands like that. Hiko didn't know exactly how his two acquaintances were planning to use his deshi but he was fairly certain it wouldn't be for the assassination of Ii Naosuke, the Hikone daimyou he'd been told about the previous summer. Kenshin had natural talent as a swordsman, but even a schemer like Arimura Jisaemon wouldn't be fool enough to use a mere boy for something of such importance. He had stated explicitly that Hiko was the man he wanted for such a deed.

And whether or not Hiko had made a mistake in allowing Kenshin to leave−perish the thought−here lay the crossroads. He could wait patiently, and find out secondhand what Jisaemon's intentions were. As no one had come to him with the message, "cooperate or your deshi dies," perhaps Jisaemon really was going to take the fool's road and follow through with letting Kenshin perform the assassination. If that was the case, Hiko wasn't about to interfere. Let the boy tarnish his soul if he wished.

However, intuition told him it was more likely that the sweet words Yoshinobu had fed Kenshin were just that−words. And if so, the sooner Hiko found out exactly what was going on, the better. He knew from experience that Jisaemon's plans were never half thought out−they were cunning and carefully constructed. If Kenshin was simply part of a more elaborate plan, Hiko would probably be pulled into the mess eventually anyway.

As Hiko considered what his foes could possibly have in mind, he knew for certain there was only one logical destination Jisaemon would want to go, regardless of how Kenshin figured into everything. Ii Naosuke currently resided in Edo, even as his supporters were strongly lobbying that he abandon office and leave. Jisaemon would want to get to Edo, before Naosuke could be convinced to go into hiding and become virtually invisible.

Hiko blew out a heavy breath and dropped his hands to his side, brow furrowing. He sat there for a long time, lost in thought, and only when the fire had died down to dull embers did he move, bringing the sake jar to his lips almost mechanically and draining the contents. He tossed the jar to the floor and made a motion as if to stand, then thought better of it and stretched his legs out instead, lying down and pulling his massive cloak tight around him. He let himself drift unhurriedly towards slumber, prepared to put his misgivings to rest in the morning.

Maybe morning was pushing it. Afternoon perhaps, after he'd−recovered somewhat from the night's indulgences. And with that decided, Hiko began to snore.

**Maybe I should mention here that Ii Naosuke and Arimura Jisaemon were both real people. Naosuke really won't figure into things much until the very end of the story though. If you're interested you can read about both of them on wikipedia, although Jisaemon's "section" is a ridiculously short and understated blurb (two sentences?). **

**Plea for help!! Does anyone know why I can't get my html edits to save? Used to be I could just open a chapter in html, write in what I needed and save it, but for some reason everything I change there doesn't save anymore. Suggestions? Referals? Anything? I'm really sick of having uncentered asterisks as page breaks. It makes my brain cringe. **

**Thanks for reading, thanks for reviewing!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Back on a role, the muse is singing again. I'm reading several amazing books right now that are great writing motivators for me. On to chapter 10! **

Kenshin had tried to stay aware of each passing sunrise and nightfall, but that had proven extremely difficult. After only a day of being tied without reprieve, his body grew stiff and painful, which made sleeping almost impossible. When he could manage to pass into exhausted unconsciousness, it was always at different times of the day or night and he could never sure how long he had actually slept. His sense of time was further distorted by the grain bag that covered him every time the wagon stopped, sometimes for hours at a time. Even with all of that, Kenshin might have been able to place a good guess as to how much time had passed. The scant rations of food and water he received though left him feeling weak and disoriented, leaving him unable to focus on anything.

Needless to say, when a voice broke through one of his fitful sleeps and announced that they'd arrived in Edo, he had no idea how long they had been traveling. Maybe one week, maybe two.

There was a flurry of sounds outside the wagon, and Kenshin made an effort to gather his senses, forcing his eyes open and trying to will feeling back into his legs. He heard wood creak as someone stood, saw the mostly brown blur that was Kaga moving his way, and then rough hands were cutting the rope that tied his feet to his hands. The sudden rush of blood that followed had Kenshin sucking back the urge to gasp as the sharp bite of pins and needles coursed up and down his legs. He'd hardly had time to get used to that sensation when he was pulled to his feet, his arms still tied at his sides. He would have collapsed from the pain if Kaga hadn't been holding him up by his shoulders.

"Come on, shake it off, we need you walking." Keeping Kenshin's feet on the floor, Kaga moved the boy's upper body in a circular motion for a minute−like that's gonna help, Kenshin thought sourly− then released his grip on Kenshin's shoulders. To Kenshin's surprise, although his legs still felt as if they were on fire he was able to stand without support. His body shook from the effort, but he supposed that was as much from lack of food as it was cramped muscles.

Kenshin noticed that Kaga seemed full of nervous energy. After jumping from the wagon, his eyes hadn't strayed to Kenshin even once, although he kept one hand resting on the rope around Kenshin's arms. Even as Kaga pulled Kenshin down next to him his eyes darted back and forth, as if searching for something. It struck Kenshin that this was the culmination of their journey and he wondered, not without trepidation, what was going to happen to him now. Maybe Kaga was looking for someone who was supposed to meet them here. Wherever "here" was.

"Here," Kenshin soon discovered, was nothing short of overwhelming. As he emerged from the wagon, his eyes were greeted by vast displays of power. The first thing he noticed was the massive gateway. It was made of ornately carved wood, and wide enough for several horses with carts to easily walk through it abreast. Tall, sloped walls were on either side of the gate. They were so high Kenshin had to tilt his head up to see the top, and they ran for hundreds of feet parallel with the horizon. It seemed impossible that anything could be higher, but rising above the walls Kenshin could see the black-edged tiers of a grandiose pagoda, the spire that tipped it reaching into the sky.

Surrounding the walls was a moat that was even wider than the creek near Hiko's. The opaque blue color of the water suggested it was much deeper than any mere creek. A wooden bridge, slightly less wide than the gateway itself, led from one side of the moat to the gateway, and several people were in the process of crossing.

Hundreds of people were milling about the grounds, some in large groups holding banners, some walking with official-looking purpose back and forth through the gateway, and still others with swords at their sides who wore identical clothing and stood relatively still as they appeared to direct everyone else. Kenshin guessed these were the castle guards –because there was no doubt in his mind, this must be Edo castle. He had heard of nowhere else in Edo that had such grandeur. Why they would come to Edo castle, Kenshin had no idea. He had been fairly certain Yoshinobu and Jisaemon were staunch anti-shougunates. It didn't make sense for them to walk with such nonchalance into the heart of Edo.

As he stared wide-eyed at everything around him, Kenshin caught site of Jisaemon walking purposefully up to one of the gate guards. They entered into an animated conversation, and Kenshin watched their lips closely in the hopes he could understand something. Jisaemon turned and looked directly at him, pointing. Kenshin saw the guard's eyebrows lift, and then there was more talking. Finally, Jisaemon beckoned at Kaga. Keeping Kenshin in front of him, Kaga walked to join the guard and Jisaemon.

"That's him?" The guard asked skeptically.

"Without a doubt," Jisaemon answered. "I would have offed the boy myself, but I thought perhaps he might be of use first. Even one as young as this could know quite a bit." Kenshin wished he knew what they were talking about.

"True, age means nothing." The guard spoke. "It's good you came to us about this. I can take you to see Sakai-sama. He can authorize the correct procedure for this circumstance. Tell the rest of your men to wait outside the gates, and please follow me."

Jisaemon turned and raised a hand at the wagon they'd been traveling in, then faced the guard. "Lead on."

Kenshin's legs had almost returned to normal by now, and he was able to keep up with the quick pace the guard set without difficulty. This was good, because he was walking in front of Kaga, who seemed like he wouldn't hesitate to run Kenshin over if he wasn't moving fast enough.

The guard stopped only once, to say something to one of his colleagues just inside the gate, and then set off without a backwards glance, waving a hand forward to let Jisaemon know that he should follow. "I can't promise you that Sakai-sama won't be occupied, but if you have time you can wait for him." The guard spoke as he walked with unerring surety through the maze that surrounded Edo castle.

"That will be fine." Jisaemon replied. "As it happens, we were making the journey to Edo anyway, so it won't be much of an inconvenience."

Silence descended again, and Kenshin tried to construct a rudimentary map in his head. Although they had taken numerous turns, he saw from the sun's location that the guard was leading them west. Kenshin wished he could use the moat as another marker, but the surrounding walls effectively obscured it.

They passed several houses, and Kenshin thought one of them must be a dojo because there was a group of men outside, all wearing blue hakama and holding katana that they swung in unison. Soon, the large pagoda Kenshin had seen towering over the sloped walls rose impressively on his left, and he stared at it in awe. The tall edifice reminded him of his shishou, dark and imposing. Then Kenshin had to turn his eyes forward because Kaga had stepped on his heel, and he had to stumble clumsily so he wouldn't fall face-first into the dirt.

As they walked further and further from the gate they'd entered, the chatter and noise from the many travelers fell away, to be replaced by the sweet chirp of sparrows and the occasional shout from practicing martial artists. When it seemed as if they were going to walk forever, the guard stopped abruptly in front of another gate, this one with a heavy-looking wood door in front of it.

"Wait here." The guard ordered, and he knocked twice, then entered, closing the door behind him. Kenshin caught a glimpse of elegantly curved roofs and narrow streets overshadowed by dark green fir trees. It had an unassuming beauty, but surely a person with as much command as Saiko-sama must possess would live somewhere more obviously opulent.

The guard returned soon. "Arimura-san, only you and the boy's presence is requested. I will escort your associate back to the gate." Jisaemon nodded his acceptance, leaving Kenshin to stand off to the side by himself. Apparently Jisaemon wasn't worried that he would run. The guard opened the door and motioned that Jisaemon and Kenshin should enter, then turned and left with Kaga.

The room they entered reminded Kenshin of a temple. Light filtered through the paper walls and bounced off the brightly polished wood floor, drawing attention to the fact that the large room was mostly unfurnished. Incense sticks burned at an ancestor shrine in the corner of the room, filing the room with the scent of sandalwood, and two small cabinets sat unobtrusively at the very back. A small table stacked with papers was in the very middle of the room, and sitting at the table was a small man wearing formal hakama and a wide-shouldered jacket of a daimyou. His intimidating glare more than made up for his small stature.

Jisaemon bowed deeply. "Sakai-sama, how are you."

Sakai scowled. "We can dispense with formalities, I don't have time for them. I've got enough work trying to deal with these insurrectionists. They're like ghosts."

"Coincidentally, that's exactly what I'm here about." Jisaemon said. "I believe this boy can make the insurrectionists less ghost-like." Sakai looked at Kenshin skeptically.

"Really? This ragged thing? Please explain."

"As you might know, Satsuma is undecided about where their loyalties lie. My men and I were traveling there for a conference with the Satsuma clans, and we were attacked by this boy who was ranting about expelling the barbarians."

Sakai interrupted Jisaemon with a snort. "Send a mere boy to attack a group of armed men? What sense is there in that?"

"We were ambushed by a group and were only able to capture the boy," Jisaemon said smoothly. "The rest either escaped, or were killed. I felt compelled to bring the boy here though, as I thought useful information about the growing insurrectionist's attacks might be gleaned from him."

Kenshin listened to the conversation with apprehension. Obviously Jisaemon's story was a lie, but what could he say about it? It was his word against a grown man.

Sakai was looking at Kenshin with interest now. "They grow so desperate that they would employ one so young?" He shook his head. "Boy, you probably don't know what you've gotten into. It's too late for that now though." He addressed Jisaemon again. "We're desperate for information. I doubt this boy knows much but maybe he can at least give us a location or two before he dies."

Died? Why would he die?

"Thank you for taking the time and effort to deliver him to us."

Jisaemon bowed low. "I'm happy to serve my Emperor." Kenshin saw his lips turn up in a smile that was hidden from Sakai.

"And he's happy to have you at his service." Sakai responded. "Leave the boy here, we'll deal with him. I'll have my retainer escort you out." A man Kenshin hadn't even noticed slid from behind a shoji panel and stepped forward. Jisaemon gave Kenshin a feral smile as the retainer opened the door to lead him out.

"Sayounara, Kenshin-kun." He said softly, and then the door closed, leaving Kenshin alone with Sakai.

"Do your parents side with the sonnou joui movement?" Sakai broke the heavy silence.

"No! I mean−I don't have any parents. And I didn't attack anyone, I-" Kenshin stopped, and an expression of horrified realization spilled over his face. He was in a catch 22. Jisaemon had portrayed him as the enemy, and Kenshin couldn't deny it. He _had_ originally wanted to assist in an assassination against the shougunate and he was sure that if he said otherwise, Jisaemon would think nothing of having one of his own men sacrificed to claim otherwise.

"You what?" Sakai asked, his glare piercing into Kenshin's eyes.

"Nothing." Kenshin's voice hitched and Sakai sighed. The stern lines around his face fell, leaving him looking old and tired. "Alright, let's get this dirty business out of the way. I'm turning you over to our questioner. I would advise you to tell him everything you know up front. Less painful that way, you'll get an easy death."

"Death?" Kenshin's voice was little more than a squeak. "But I haven't done anything!" Sakai looked at him sympathetically.

"That's what they all say. I'm sorry boy, but this is what happens when you choose the wrong side." He didn't seem sorry at all, and now the guard had returned and was stepping into the room again. "Houjou, take this traitor to the Fujimi keep and tell Kobori-san to question him as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," The guard looked as if he couldn't imagine why someone such as Kenshin needed to be kept here, but he obeyed orders, positioning Kenshin in front of him as Kaga had done.

"And Houjou?" Sakai added. "See that he gets something to eat first. We wouldn't want to have a possible source of information pass out before we can ask him anything."

Kenshin stumbled several times as they walked, feeling as if he were in a dream. Since when had he become a traitor? He wasn't, was he? And this questioner−what was he going to ask? Kenshin didn't know how he would be able to answer. And Sakai-sama had said he was going to be killed! The thought almost made sick, so he forced himself to stop thinking about it.

Although Kenshin had told Yoshinobu that his shishou would refuse to show interest in his erstwhile deshi's doings, he hoped mightily that he was wrong. Surely his shishou cared at least enough to find out where Kenshin had run off to? Even if some of Yoshinobu and Jisaemon's men were still in Kyoto and told Hiko that Kenshin had joined them, his shishou would know something wasn't right. He had a sixth sense like that. Kenshin clung to the hope like a child to a blanket. It was all he had, and it was keeping him from hysteria for the time being.

Houjou stopped in front of a relatively tall building and unlocked a grated door that swung open to reveal a stairway. He nudged Kenshin forward, and they started up the steps. The climb wasn't that far and shouldn't have been tedious, but Kenshin's legs were quivering by the time they reached the top. It was hard to climb stairs without the help of one's arms for balance.

Several doors lined the hallway at the top of the stairs, and Houjou led Kenshin to one, opening the door and pushing him inside. Houjou lifted his sword and Kenshin flinched, but the man only sliced the ropes from Kenshin's arms. Kenshin rubbed them gratefully. "I will see to it that food and water are brought before Kobori-san comes." Houjou said, and after giving the room a cursory glance he closed the door with a bang.

Kenshin stared at the door for several seconds, then looked around the small cell he was in. There was a pallet on the floor in one corner, but aside from that and several iron rings sticking out from the wall there was nothing.

A barred window let in a generous amount of light, and Kenshin walked to it, standing on tiptoe to see out. The sun was high in the sky, and in the distance he saw a large mountain, capped with snow. Mt. Fuji, Kenshin surmised as he remembered what Sakai had called this building.

The sight just made Kenshin think of Hiko's house in the mountains near Kyoto, and he turned abruptly from the window, going to sit on the pallet with his head in his hands. If he ever got out of this, he would beg shishou for forgiveness. He would bow to the floor if he had to.

Kenshin scrubbed at his face which was inexplicably damp and drew a quavering breath. He had to stay strong. What would his shishou say if he got here and Kenshin was sobbing like a baby? Kenshin drew another breath, steadier this time. _Shishou . . . please come_.

**_I'm hoping turning Kenshin into Edo castle came as a surprise. If it didn't . . . well, I tried. Also, while we're on the subject of Edo castle, I tried to be accurate with it (for the most part at least). I used a picture to describe the castle scenes, and Fujimi really is a keep. While Sakai is a daimyou family name, my Sakai-sama is fictional. Next chapter: More Hiko! Questions, comments? By all means, send them in! _**

_literaryrxn_**_: _**_Hiko just wouldn't be himself without the arrogance, would he?_

_Ayesha: Oh, don't worry about usefulness, I've left my share of generic reviews. FF13, my husband's been playing that lately! It looks pretty cool but I haven't given it a go yet._

_ZukoFlame: *pat pat* don't feel terrible! I think you've reviewed almost every chapter anyway. Haha, I'm all about Kenshin and his psychological/physical pain. Makes the story so much more fun. _


	11. Chapter 11

It was hardly past early morning and Hiko was already in a bad mood. It wasn't because of the sake either. _That_ he was used to. No, he was irked because he'd just discovered that although he'd already been on the road for an hour, he had a very long journey ahead of him.

Hiko had risen just after the sun, as he usually did, and eaten a rather bland bowl of miso soup for breakfast, as he was mysteriously out of rice. Already an inauspicious start to his day. He'd taken the road into town, enjoying the crisp morning air and the scent of spring. After painstakingly avoiding conversations with the much-too-friendly local merchants (some might say he rudely ignored their salutations), Hiko came at last to the stall of the fish monger he knew Kenshin was fond of.

"Ohayou, Hiko-kun!" And that was the reason Hiko was _not_ so fond of the man. Yes, Hiko was younger than the merchant, but what in kami's name made him think it was acceptable to address a master swordsman as _kun_?

"Oi," Hiko said grudgingly.

"What brings you into town?" The man asked. "I usually see your apprentice running errands for you!" Hiko didn't miss the shrewd look of curiosity in the man's eyes. He'd get right to the point then.

"I'm not here to patronize, Tanaka-san. I know Arimura Jisaemon's been in town recently. Can you tell me anything regarding his whereabouts?" Tanaka's shoulders hunched unconsciously.

"He's good business, but I question that man's motives. I saw Ken-kun talking with one of his associates just the other day, Yoshinobu-kun if I remember correctly, and the boy looked far too interested in what he had to say. Surely he didn't-"

"Do you know where they're staying?" Hiko interrupted, patience wearing thin. This was why he hated interacting with people. They couldn't just answer a simple question, they had to make conversation, and act as if they cared.

Hiko's usual terse manner had the desired effect, and Tanaka replied in a stiff voice, "I heard he and his men were at an inn nearby, but there's been talk that they left town yesterday-," Hiko cursed and pounded his fist on the stall's table, causing Tanaka to jump. "Hiko-kun, please control yourself! You realize you terrify people with that manner of yours?"

Of course he did. That was the point. And it looked as if Tanaka needed some more terrifying if Hiko was ever going to get a full story from him before noon.

"Anyway, I think they left for Edo, at least that's what the rumors say!" Tanaka finished quickly as Hiko's look suggested imminent pain if he wasn't answered soon.

"Edo?" Hiko scowled. Of course they'd have to make this difficult. And they already had two days head start on him.

"Yes, and I hear they made quite a racket, bringing a wagon with them." Tanaka shook his head. "Who travels to Edo with a wagon?"

"Someone with something to hide." Hiko growled.

"Do you think Ken-kun has fallen in with those ruffians?" Tanaka asked, and Hiko wondered passingly why the man cared so much about the little trouble-spot. "He seems an intelligent boy, you'd think he would avoid their type."

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Hiko snorted as he silently considered his options. If Jisaemon and Yoshinobu were traveling with a wagon, Hiko could be sure that they were on the Tokaidou road, and weren't trying to carve out a path through the forest. At least it wouldn't be hard to pick up information on them as he traveled.

Tokaidou road it was then. "Thank you for your time, Tanaka-san."

Hiko's cloak billowed impressively as he turned, and as he continued on his way he heard Tanaka's voice drift after him, "Maybe you'd like to buy some fish when you return?"

Hiko pretended not to hear him.

***

The Tokaidou road served as the main thoroughfare from Kyoto to Edo. As such, it was frequently traveled, and closely-spaced way points made the long trip bearable. Not that this mattered to the 13th master of Hiten Mitsurugi; he stopped far less frequently than the average traveler. By midday Hiko had passed Otsu and Kusatsu, and he hadn't planned on bedding down for the night until he reached Sakashita, still a considerable distance away. The blackened ruins of the next town he came to screamed at him to stop though.

If Hiko had been the emotional sort, he might have gasped at the incongruous sight. Both sides of the road were lined with buildings, but the entire left side was a charred parody of the right. Somehow, a few sad remnants of walls and floors managed to retain their shape, their skeletons shaking unsteadily with every breath of air that touched them.

As it was, Hiko simply halted and analyzed the sight, narrowed eyes flicking from one side of the road to the other. He had been through Ishibe a few times before; it was only a day's travel from Kyoto, so it was a convenient place to rest. The business that Ishibe had built over the years made it a popular as well as convenient location, and it was now one of the largest towns along the Toukaidou road. Important political figures and soldiers were always staying in Ishibe's well-to-do inns so any damage the town suffered wouldn't stay unfixed for long.

Which meant the fire that had burned half the town to the ground had happened very recently. In fact, now that he looked closer, Hiko could see several small groups of men already at work clearing the rubble. It would take a lot of time and labor, but he bet that by the end of the year no one would be able to tell that half of Ishibe had met a fiery demise. The question Hiko wanted answered was how a busy, thriving town let a fire, something so dangerous to their livelihood, get so out of control.

He must have been standing there for a bit because Hiko felt eyes on him. It was only a curious glance, someone wondering why he was just standing there instead of going about his business. Still, he should keep moving before he drew too much attention to himself.

Undoubtedly the entire town could tell him the particulars of the fire, so Hiko walked into the first building he came to, a shop that advertised good exchange rates. As he pushed aside the faded red _noren_ that covered the doorway, he was greeted simultaneously by the annoying jangle of chimes and a curt voice.

"If you're coming to take out a loan don't bother, my reserves have run out."

Hiko let his eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the room. "I'm sure I could convince you to forward me money if that's what I was here for, but it's not."

He saw the broker's eyebrows lift at his boldness, and his eyes roved over Hiko, resting on the sword at his side. He laughed then. "Perhaps you could. What can I help you with then?"

"I have reason to believe some−acquaintances−of mine passed through here a day or so ago. I'm looking for somebody who can confirm that for me."

"A few days ago?" The broker's face was guarded now. "Just how much of an acquaintance are they?"

"Let's just say there's no goodwill between us at the moment." Hiko said.

"Hm. Many people come through here on a daily basis, you know. You'd be better off asking-"

"I think they might be the cause of your fire." Hiko interrupted.

"Oh? And how would that interest you?" The broker's tone was thoughtful.

"As I said, there's no goodwill between us. When was the town burnt?"

"Only yesterday, before lunch hour. It was quite a catastrophe."

"The place that it started, are there any survivors that could say exactly how it happened?"

"Oh, no one died. A few badly burned but they're recovering as well as can be expected. If you want details you should talk to Kato Saburo, he ran the Shijoya, the inn where the fire started."

"Where can I find him?"

"Just two houses down." The broker lowered his gaze to a stack of notes in front of him, and taking that as a sign that the conversation was over, Hiko left.

Hiko's destination was a small but respectable-looking inn, and he was greeted as soon as he walked through the doorway with a bow. "How may we help you, honored guest?"

"I'm looking for Kato-san."

The formally cheerful greeter now looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. "Kato Saburo? May I ask what purpose you have with him?" He asked, nervousness seeping from his voice.

"I was told by your money lender that it was his inn that the fire started."

"Yes, it was . . . what exactly did you want to speak to him about?"

"I want to know how the fire started." Hiko growled. "Let me speak with him or I'll forego courtesy and find his room without your help."

It was an ambiguous threat at best but it moved the man into action. "I'm sure he'll be happy to talk with you, please, follow me." He led Hiko behind a curtained doorway at the back of the room and gestured at a slender, well-dressed man standing over a table. "Kato-san, you have a visitor."

The man at the table looked up, and Hiko saw he had been standing in front of a young boy who appeared to be studying. "A visitor?"

"He wants to speak with you about the fire." Hiko's guide said, and with a hasty bow, the man raced from the room, leaving Hiko alone with the boy and a startled-looking Kato. Hiko didn't move to bridge the short distance between them but began talking.

"Excuse me if I'm interrupting. I hear the fire that burned half of Ishibe to the ground started in your inn, and I'm curious how that happened."

Kato and the boy−it must be his son, they could almost pass as twins−exchanged a glance. "We were just finishing." Kato said. He spoke softly to the boy then, who got up and left the room with a scowl. Hiko saw that his arm was in a sling. "I'd rather my son not be a part of this." Kato said after the boy had left. "Heiji and I have had a rough couple of days."

"I understand. So is it true?"

"Yes. The fire started in one of my inns. I didn't see it happen, but one of my cooks told me." Kato heaved a sigh. "It was very unexpected, you see. We've had trouble before but never like this. It wasn't even the men staying with us who started it!"

"No?" Hiko waited for him to elaborate.

"No. It's my fault, really. I asked one of the men's sons to spar with Heiji. They were a strange pair, now that I think about it, looked nothing alike. Anyway, the boy−went crazy for a moment, I suppose. His father said he wasn't quite right in the head. He just lit into Heiji. Broke the poor boy's arm, and cracked two ribs. And with only a shinai!"

"A shinai?" Hiko asked sharply. He only knew one boy with a technique powerful enough to break bones with a shinai. "What did the boy look like?"

"Oh, he had the strangest red hair. And he was so small, I was surprised at his sword skills. His fighting was so logical, I found it hard to believe he wasn't right in the head."

Hiko's instincts hadn't failed him; they had taken Kenshin. Hiko was positive that Yoshinobu and Jisaemon's destination was Edo, but whether or not they planned on taking Kenshin the entire way remained to be seen.

Kato's gaze had drifted down to the katana at Hiko's side. "Well, the boy ran off after that, with his poor father calling after him, and ended up breaking into another of my inns further down the road. I was still attending Heiji, but one of my cooks told me there was a horrible swordfight and the boy somehow destroyed one of the ovens."

At least Kenshin had the sense to fight when the opportunity arose. And from the sound of it, his training hadn't quite gone to hell. Hiko quickly suppressed the unexpected rise of pride by reminding himself why his baka deshi was in this situation to begin with.

Kato was gazing towards the doorway despondently, as if he could see the charred ruins of his inn across the street. "I suppose there was just so much commotion that the fire didn't get noticed until too late."

"What happened to the boy?" Hiko could guess, but better to have confirmation.

"Oh, they found him somewhere," Kato waved a hand vaguely. "He must've fainted dead away after so much excitement. I saw someone carrying him in the street just before they left, he looked rather rough." Kato was looking away and missed the flash of anger in Hiko's eyes.

"You've been extremely helpful. I have one more question. Do you know where this man and his son were headed?"

"I assume Edo. That's where most everyone goes. They were only here a short time though and weren't free with their words. Edo's your best bet." Kato paused, then met Hiko's eyes. "You don't just carry that sword for show, do you?" It was more statement than question.

"No."

"When you find them, share my displeasure, will you? And . . . tell the boy I'm sorry we couldn't help."

So the man wasn't an idiot; just a coward. "Gladly." Hiko said. He turned to leave but Kato spoke again, his words taking Hiko by surprise.

"Is he your son?"

It would have been simple to just say no. "What makes you ask that?"

"Your eyes. They have the same look."

"Really?" Hiko mused thoughtfully, almost to himself. It was an intriguing, if somewhat worrying, observation. "He's not my son. Just a student."

"Well . . . Ganbatte."

Hours after leaving Ishibe, Kato's remark still rang in Hiko's mind.

* * *

_Noren _- those curtains that Japanese people like to hang in their doorways. They can be long curtains or just short ones that you can walk/duck under.

**Wow, for once I had nothing to say at the start of the chapter. *gasp* I really do love writing Hiko. Talented narcissists are so likeable when they're not real. Actually, what am I saying, they're likeable when they are real. Just impossible to live with. **

**Trick question: Think Hiko can find his baka deshi before things get too bad at Edo castle? **

**Answer: Ah, TBD my friends!**

_t42and24t2_**: **Well thanks! I was actually pretty happy with that chapter myself. Hiko's reaction is coming, he's just warming up in this chapter. As for choosing a side . . . we'll see. ;)

_Ayesha_**: **Wow, I'm flattered! I'd love to see your finished work!


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning! This chapter is rated M. Not that that really matters to anyone, but just in case . . . you have been warned. **

Kenshin's imagination had almost driven him sick by the time his cell door swung silently open. A man clad only in black hakama entered, his dark glossy hair pulled high up on his head in a tight ponytail. A small knife protruded from the top of his hakama, and a curled length of rope was tied around his waist. He carried a bucket in one hand and curious piece of bamboo in the other. The bamboo was thick and over a foot long, and it was cut into slender strands at one end. Kenshin's stomach did a hollow flip and he swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth.

The man set the bucket down, and when he spoke his voice was unexpectedly soft. "Did you eat?"

Kenshin had been brought food as promised−miso and rice−but he had hardly been able to touch more than two bites before he was giving himself shudders thinking about what was going to happen; if there was a way to convince _anyone_ that he was just a student trying to learn swordsmanship.

The man's eyes drifted to where the still full bowls sat on the floor below the window. "Hm. Well, it was brought at least." With a sharp flick of his ponytail, he turned his attention to Kenshin, looking him up and down. Kenshin sat still on the pallet, trying to appear as small as possible. "I've been told that you are a misguided member of the sonno joui."

Kenshin wanted to say no, but didn't want to provoke an undesired reaction from the man. He would simply sit silently unless asked a direct question, and then answer as honestly as possible. He couldn't be killed for being honest, could he?

"And that you deliberately attacked a caravan of peaceful travelers going to conduct a business meeting."

The urge to speak out against that was strong but Kenshin restrained himself, keeping his hands folded in his lap and his head bowed. Maybe if he never had to say anything−

A hand cracked against his head then, and Kenshin toppled sideways onto the floor. He sat up in shock, holding a hand to his face.

"Maybe you don't know how this works yet." Hakama-man paced the floor in front of Kenshin. "I'm here to ask you questions. You're supposed to give me answers. If you don't," He raised the hand holding the oddly cut piece of bamboo, "I'm here to help you think of answers. Now pay attention: I don't want lies. I want the truth. And if I think you're not giving me the truth . . . well, I have several friends to call in to help convince you." He paused, and Kenshin's stomach flopped again. He hoped he wasn't going to be sick.

"Sakai-sama thought maybe we could try the easy way." Hakama-man began again, and Kenshin remembered that the man called Sakai had said the questioner was called Kobori. "He seems to think you'll be eager to tell us all you know and take a pain-free death."

Kenshin saw Kobori's head was cocked slightly, waiting for an answer. He took several deep breaths, tried to steady his voice, calm the trembling he felt throughout his body. "Y-yes. But-"

"What can you tell me?"

Another breath. He felt a little better now. It would be okay. "I'm not a-a member of whatever that group is. And I don't know what information you want." Kenshin watched Kobori's reaction. The man's expression was impossible to read though. He met Kenshin's gaze, unblinking. Kenshin wanted to look away but maybe it was a test, and if he looked away it meant he wasn't telling the truth, so he forced himself to hold the stare until Kobori finally sighed and began pacing.

"Alright then. This is what I want to hear from you. Names, locations, dates. I know you can give me at least a name and location." He was moving closer to Kenshin as he paced. Kenshin watched his feet as if in a trance−two steps closer, one back−two more closer, one back.

"I can't." Kenshin said finally, looking up at Kobori. "I don't know anything." The pacing stopped.

"The name of your commanding officer? The place you retire at night?"

Kenshin shook his head fervently, trying to convey how truthful he was being. "I don't know, really!"

Another sigh from Kobori. "Okay boy, I tried to help you, just remember that." It was as if a veil dropped over his eyes then, and where before they had been bright and glinting now they looked flat and dull. The sudden change made Kenshin drop his gaze again. "I want the name of your commanding officer." Kobori's voice had lost all softness, and Kenshin's mouth went dry. "Or you're going to find out how good I am with this." Kobori waved the bamboo for effect and Kenshin shivered at the coarse rustle it made.

"I don't have a commanding officer."

Kobori looked towards the door. "Houjou! Get in here!"

There was the rattling of metal, and then the guard who had led Kenshin to his cell stepped inside. Kobori nodded at Kenshin. "He's not being as cooperative as Sakai-sama thought. Let's get started, I already have plans tonight." Kobori pulled the rope from his waist. "Take your shirt off." He ordered.

Wondering at the strange command, Kenshin obeyed, watching nervously as Kobori fashioned a lasso with several expert twists of his wrist. Kenshin didn't resist as Kobori placed the rope around his arms and cinched it tight. He was already used to that anyway.

Houjou took the leftover rope dangling from Kenshin's left side and tied it to one of the rings set in the wall, then came back and picked up the other end, pulling in the slack and holding it.

"Got it?" Kobori asked. He was standing behind Kenshin, and Kenshin craned his neck to see what he was doing. The bamboo stick in Kobori's hand was raised slightly, and as Houjou grunted an affirmative he shook it experimentally. "Turn your head around." That was the only warning Kenshin got before Kobori whipped the bamboo forward, and a sharp slap echoed through the room as nettles of pain burned into Kenshin's left shoulder.

He gasped before he could stop himself and his shoulder jerked involuntarily. If Houjou hadn't been gripping the end of the rope Kenshin guessed he would have spun all the way around. He'd hardly got used to the sensation when Kobori hit him again, in the same spot. Kenshin managed not to gasp but he squeezed his eyes shut. Three more times Kobori hit the same spot, and each blow was worse than the one before, driving the burning deeper and deeper until Kenshin's nerves screamed. Kenshin thought he felt something warm and wet trickling down his back after the fifth hit.

"Still sticking with no names?" Kobori was already breathing harder. As he stepped in front of him, Kenshin saw blood dripping slowly from the bamboo flail in his hand.

His blood. And he could smell it.

"Kobori-san," Houjou said warningly, "I think-"

Kenshin fell forward and retched, clear bile forming a puddle in front of him. Strangely, it made him feel better, even though the pain in his back didn't diminish.

"Names?" Kobori asked again, unfazed by Kenshin's reaction.

"I-I don't-know anything." Kenshin managed, trying to spit the foul taste from his mouth. He saw Kobori shrug, and the man moved to the bucket he'd brought in earlier. Kenshin watched as he scooped up a handful of whatever was in there. Sand, it looked like.

"There's still plenty of good room on your back." Kobori said, and he moved behind Kenshin again, and suddenly a new pain was digging into his shoulder. Kobori was rubbing the sand into his raw back. Kenshin opened his mouth but he refused to cry out. He wouldn't let them know how much it hurt.

Kobori stopped rubbing the sand in and said, "Hold tight, Houjou." A grunt, and then a fiery explosion landed in the soft spot between Kenshin's shoulder blades.

Spontaneous tears leaked into the corner of Kenshin's eyes, and he blinked them away, biting his lower lip to stave off the pain. It hurt even more than the first five blows. It felt like Kobori was hitting him harder too. Maybe that was just his body giving in though.

Kenshin heard the ragged whistle of the flail just before another blow landed in the same place, and his back arched forward, straining against Houjou's hold. Houjou tried to get him to straighten his back but Kenshin couldn't make his body cooperate. Kobori made a sound of disgust.

"Come on Houjou, are you useless?"

"The boy can't do it, Kobori-san," Houjou's face had a green tint to it, and he looked sicker than Kenshin felt, if that was possible.

"Then we'll have to fix that, won't we?" Kobori sneered. "Against the wall then. Get some more sand for me while I move him, he's started bleeding again and the flail's going to slide right off."

Kenshin thought that sounded more desirable than what it was doing now, digging hundreds of tiny grooves into his back. He let his body go limp as Kobori pulled him towards the wall. Anything to put a hold on the torture.

"Does the boy never eat? He's a lightweight." Kobori grunted as he pushed Kenshin flat against the wall, stomach first. "Houjou, pull in the slack on these ropes." Kenshin felt the pull against his arms as Houjou obeyed, and when Kobori stepped back, the ropes did their job, holding Kenshin against the cool stone wall. "Good, good. Bring the sand over here."

Kenshin heard Kobori readying the flail again, felt the burn of sand being rubbed into his back. He closed his eyes in preparation.

The flail rattled between his shoulder blades a third time; then a fourth, and a fifth. He hardly noticed when Kobori stopped and Houjou came shuffling over to rub sand into the new wound. Then the flail bit into his right shoulder, five blows there as well, until he felt the blood running down his back. Kenshin's stomach tensed against the wall with each blow and he thought it must be sore and bruised by the time Kobori was done.

It struck Kenshin that the wall in front of him was wet, and he found himself wondering why. Tears? More bile? He wasn't really sure how long he'd been here now; just that the pain hadn't stopped, had spread completely across his upper back and was moving to his lower back.

Why was he here again? What was he supposed to be doing?

"Kobori-san,"

Kobori-san . . . oh, the questioner . . . the man swinging that cursed flail on him again and again. Somewhere in the back of his head Kenshin was aware of a low, constant sound. A moan. _His_ moan. He couldn't stop, it just trickled out of him, like the blood on his back.

"Kobori-san, please, I don't think you're going to get anything out of him today." More talking, too indistinct and too hard to follow, but Kenshin groaned with relief when his body suddenly slid to the floor, free from the rope that had held it up.

He hardly noticed the sand being rubbed vigorously into his back, or the door opening, or the click of the key as the door was locked from the outside.

Then, finally, sweet silence. Only the sound of his own labored breathing. The floor he lay on was slick with blood and possibly other fluids as well, but he was too exhausted to move. Gradually, enough strength returned to his limbs so that he could pull himself towards his pallet. Even moving just that five feet sapped the energy that had returned, and Kenshin lay beside the makeshift bed, feeling the blood drying on his stomach and hands, feeling his skin pulled taut in response.

It was over, and he wasn't dead. Maybe what Sakai said about dying had just been a figure of speech.

_Or maybe there's going to be more_. A voice in the back of his head whispered. He couldn't think about any more right now though. He was about to pass out as it was. He had to focus. What was he going to do next time?

Tell them something. Anything. Maybe if he did, they'd let him go. Maybe−his spirits lifted briefly−maybe if he told them about shishou and where they could find him they'd understand that he was just an apprentice . . .

Then Jisaemon and Yoshinobu would have what they wanted. His shishou would walk into whatever trap they were planning. That was the reason they took him in the first place, because they thought they could trick Hiko.

No, Kenshin couldn't do that. He was stuck here, to be questioned whenever Kobori saw fit and to die at the whim of the man they called Sakai-sama. And with that despairing thought, Kenshin let himself fall into the welcoming hammock of unconsciousness.

***

"Arimura-san?" Yoshinobu slid the shoji aside and joined his peer on the porch. Night was falling, and crickets chirped tentatively in the high grass around the small pond. "Our spies have reported that Hiko Seijurou is traveling this way. Quickly. He was last seen in Fujisawa, and he didn't stop there."

Jisaemon's hands tightened briefly around the ceramic cup he held. "Good." He stared into the darkening world, eyes half closed, legs crossed at the ankles and dangling off the porch. The sharp scent of green tree drifted across the porch.

"Do you think it's wise?" Yoshinobu sat next to him and leaned back on his hands as he looked at Jisaemon. "We both know his strength."

Jisaemon nodded. "And that's exactly why we need him. It's only this once, I won't bother him again. Besides," His mouth turned up in a soft grin, "we have an important bargaining piece."

"Yes . . . but you heard what the boy said. He left. Seijurou wouldn't take that lightly."

"No, he wouldn't." Jiseamon agreed. "But then there's the fact that he's already on his way to Edo. We've only been here a day. That means he left very soon after us." He took a sip from his cup. Steam clouded in the cool air. "It will work." He said confidently.

"What he said when we visited though . . . and what the boy told us . . ."

"Do you not observe people, Yoshinobu? I know Seijurou like a book. The man's entire manner suggested the boy means more to him than anything. He'll never admit it, not even to himself probably. But believe me," He nodded emphatically, "He won't be able to lay a finger on us until he's assured of his pupil's whereabouts. That gives us the time and opportunity we need."

"I hope so." Yoshinobu said gloomily. "For everyone's sake." The two fell silent, listening to the crickets as they began to perform in full force.

In the sky, the moon rose, large and red.

**I actually read up on Meiji torture techniques (that sounds so sadistic!). This is the real thing! Well, in writing at least. Hiko better get to Kenshin quick.**

**A/N: I do realize I'm phonetically spelling Hiko's first name wrong (it shoud be Seijuurou) but it's just so many u's that I keep leaving one out, and I can't bring myself to use the completely Anglicized version (Seijuro). *sigh* Sorry guys!**

_Amamiya_: Thanks! That's very encouraging to hear.

_t42n24t2_: Glad you like my Hiko! "Rescue before revenge" indeed! Kenshin would be happy to hear that.

_Ayesha_: Disobeying to read my story? *happy tear* But. . . you did review? ;) Good luck with the chem assignment!


	13. Chapter 13

**Whew, careful story plotting is killing me. The next few updates are probably going to be a little further apart than they have been.**

If you were riding a horse, the average traveling time it took to reach Edo was just under a week. Walking, it would take closer to two weeks. As Hiko Seijuurou's speed and stamina far surpassed that of an ordinary person though, he made it in five days. Several times he sensed he was right on the tail of Yoshinobu and Jisaemon, but after inquiries he always found he had just missed them. He knew he was going the right way at least, and it was only a matter of time until he confronted them.

After leaving Ishibe, Hiko had been unable to find anyone who had seen Kenshin, let alone seen him with Jisaemon or any of his men. This just solidified Hiko's conviction that Kenshin hadn't simply walked off of his own accord. He was a prisoner. The fact that no-one could attest to seeing him surely meant Kenshin was being kept from sight. Hiko would have run into him if he'd escaped, and it wouldn't make sense for Jisaemon to capture the boy just to pawn him off halfway to Edo.

Still, it was clever of them, to keep Kenshin's presence unknown. If they did it to throw Hiko off their trail, they should have known that was ultimately impossible. It was more likely that they didn't want any more incidents like the one that occurred at Ishibe. Jisaemon would have seen to it that no more chances were taken.

That was a vague source of worry for Hiko, the fact that Jisaemon seemed to be the leader of this anti-shougunate group, and he had spent many hours of his journey deep in thought about it. Hiko had known Arimura Jisaemon from adolescence. Although they had studied with different masters, they had sparred together somewhat frequently and held a mutual respect for each other even though their philosophies about the way of the sword differed. It wasn't until they were well into their teens that they'd had a mild falling out over the ideals of swordsmanship and drifted apart.

To put it shortly, Jisaemon knew Hiko well. He was familiar with his one-time friend's quirks; the subtle mannerisms Hiko unconsciously used that were a mirror to his deeper thoughts and feelings, the ones hidden so deep that they were almost impossible to pull to the surface.

Hiko was an expert at burying anything that might lead to emotion. He knew he could fool anyone he met into thinking he was a smug, uncaring bastard. He also knew that Jisaemon was playing with this aspect of his personality. Any normal enemy would have tried to grab Kenshin from under his nose, which was impossible. No one could possibly learn anything worthwhile from that scenario except that Hiko was undefeatable.

But Jisaemon . . . he wasn't challenging Hiko's physical strength, he was playing mind games. He hadn't tried to take Kenshin immediately. He'd lured him away from Hiko first, then kept the fact that he'd captured the boy a secret. He was testing Hiko, trying to learn just how deep his feelings went, how far Hiko would go for the student who would have run out on him.

Hiko had revealed a lot just by coming this far. Jisaemon didn't need Kenshin−they both knew that. He needed Hiko. Paradoxically, that was the reason Hiko had to go to Edo. Because if he didn't, it was more likely than not that Kenshin would never be seen again. Jisaemon would take Hiko's appearance in Edo it as an indication that he cared about the boy's life, and Hiko wouldn't argue that−of course he cared, he'd spent almost four years teaching the little ingrate. If Jisaemon thought Hiko was going to sacrifice his beliefs for an impudent pupil though, he had another think coming.

Regardless of beliefs, Hiko knew that even once he got to Edo Kenshin's life would still be in jeopardy. His first order of business was to seek out Jisaemon's lodgings and find his stupid deshi. By that point, Hiko would have a better feel for the situation and could work out a plan. Like beat the tar out of Jisaemon and his cronies for trying to blackmail him into what was a foolhardy assassination in the first pace.

Then he could curse out that damn baka deshi of his for being so predictably moronic.

It was with this thought that Hiko found himself coming upon the great wooden bridge that led into the heart of Edo, the Edobashi. He stood at the foot of the bridge for a moment, taking in the surroundings. It was early afternoon and people were streaming onto the bridge, coming in from the Nakasendou road as well as the Toukaidou. Hiko's giant mantel whooshed softly as traveler after traveler brushed by him, most of them glancing up with mild annoyance that melted into surprise when they saw the giant who stood in their way. Hiko ignored them.

Edo. Where would a man like Jisaemon stay in this bustling city? Hiko's eyes roved over the tightly spaced rows of houses and shops over a hundred feet away on the other side of the bridge. The roofs seemed to stretch unendingly into the distance. The clear, cloudless day made for great visibility, and rising above the field of gray roofs Hiko could see Fuji-sama, its white-capped apex reaching to the heavens. Even the tip of the great pagoda in the castle district was visible, although it was maybe a mile away.

Hiko paused, a frown creasing his features. From what he knew of the shogun's daimyou, they tended to live close to Edo castle for convenience. Surely Ii Naosuke was no exception. And as Jisaemon's ultimate goal was to kill Naosuke, he would want to be as close as possible to keep tabs on the man. Even if Jisaemon wasn't staying outside the castle grounds, he would have visited by now on some false pretense. And that meant he would have to pass by the gate guards, who surely took down the purpose of everyone's visit.

Hiko couldn't stop a tight grin. There was a reason he called himself a genius. He was preparing to cross the bridge but stopped in his tracks when the surge of an excited ki washed over him like a wave. So his actions hadn't gone unnoticed. Someone was watching him. Hiko's gaze moved across the bridge, sweeping over the muddle of houses and people in front of him, looking for a clue that would lead him to the source of the disturbance.

There.

The man had dark clothes and a wide-brimmed farmer's hat pulled low over his face, and was provided further cover by the shadow of the two buildings he stood between, but to Hiko he might as well have been holding a neon sign.

So, Jisaemon thought he could covertly keep tabs on the greatest swordsman of the era. Well, Hiko would let him play his game. He'd just make sure to win. Not here though. There were

too many people milling around, too many respectable citizens who didn't need to get mixed up in something like this. It would be unavoidable in the future, but for now Hiko would do what he could to prevent dragging innocents into this mess.

The spy had shrunk even further into the shadows as Hiko looked his way, and Hiko let his eyes pass over him without stopping. He gave a shrug then, scratched his head−maybe that was _too_ much−and headed in the direction of Edo castle with a ground-eating stride. He made sure to pass directly in front of the buildings the spy had hidden between, and smirked inwardly as he felt a wary ki begin trailing him as he passed.

The game was on.

000

"You still refuse to talk?" The bamboo flail in Kobori's hand swished ominously, its strips dripping red. Kenshin flinched in response, his back begging him to give Kobori an answer. Off to the side, Houjou's lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, the blood pooling from his head proof of Kobori's wrath.

_You're going to end up like that if you don't tell him something,_ said the voice in Kenshin's head.

_But what do I tell him_? Kobori took a step closer to him.

_Anything_.

Kobori lifted the flail. "Well?" His hand began its descent.

"Wait!" Kenshin cried. "Jisaemon is lying! I'm just a student of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, and my shishou is Hiko Seijuurou! He's going to come and you'll know it was all a mistake." Kobori laughed then.

"Sure, I bet you just made up this Hiko Seijuurou."

"No. He didn't."

Kenshin's heart nearly leapt from his chest at the familiar voice. "Shishou!" Hiko was suddenly standing between him and Kobori.

How had he done that?

No matter, Kenshin was safe now. Hiko grabbed his deshi and shoved past Kobori, knocking the man into the wall with such force that the flail fell from his hands.

"Let's go, Kenshin." Hiko lifted his sword and sliced at the cell door. There was a horrendous grating noise, and sparks flew, but the door didn't give.

Laughter erupted from behind them and Kenshin saw Kobori regain his footing. "It's impossible to cut your way out of here. You have to fight me."

Hiko just raised his sword and swung at the door again. Again, the horrible sound. "Try again, shishou!" Kenshin said frantically, but even as he said it Hiko began to evaporate before his eyes.

"Shishou?" Kenshin reached a hand towards Hiko's shoulder only to meet with air. "Shishou?!" Kenshin was inexplicably on the floor again, and now Kobori was in front of him, laughing crazily, metallically . . .

Ultimately, it was metal clattering against stone that pulled him from the feverish slumber. Kenshin opened his eyes, the harsh sound echoing in his ears, and stared blearily at the wall in front of him for several long seconds. His back burned and throbbed but what hurt worse was the knowledge that his almost-rescue had only been a dream. He was still stuck here.

Gradually, he managed to bring his head to face the source of the sound, and saw that another bowl of food had been shoved into the room. His stomach growled at the sight, but Kenshin didn't think he'd be able to keep anything down if he ate. Besides, what was the point if he was just going to die?

Kenshin choked down the lump rising in his throat. Why couldn't they just kill him now and get it over with? If only there was some way . . .

A memory surfaced, some story he'd heard in town of men biting through their own tongues to end an unbearable life. It sounded horribly grotesque and painful, but at least he'd only have to do it once. No more wondering how long he would be tortured. Could he go through with it though? Kenshin placed his tongue between his teeth and gave an experimental nip. That _hurt_. Then he thought of the flail on his back, the sand rubbed in afterwards. That was arguably worse. Kenshin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to psyche himself out about this, think about something else-

"AHHH!" He screamed and his tongue instinctively curled to the back of his mouth as blood began pouring down his chin. He heard fumbling at the cell door and a shout of alarm, and then someone was at his side and a hand was being shoved in his mouth. He shook his head wildly but then something slammed into his back and he almost passed out.

By the time his head had cleared, a gag had been placed in his mouth, and he was being held in a sitting position. Kobori stood in front of him and Kenshin couldn't help but notice that the flail wasn't in his hands.

"So, lively enough to attempt suicide?" Kobori said. "You know, when prisoners try to kill themselves, that tells me something. It tells me they have something to hide and would rather end their lives than have me pull it out of them." Kenshin's eyes widened in disbelief and he shouted incoherently into his gag. Kobori nodded. "Good, coming around now are we? That didn't take long." He reached out and pulled the gag from Kenshin's mouth.

Kenshin's words fell from him in a rush. "No, that's not why!" His tongue was already swelling and he could hardly say his t's. "I'm not a murderer! Jisaemon's lying!" He stopped to let his tongue recover, thinking bitterly, _I couldn't even get halfway_.

Kobori exchanged a glance with Houjou. The guard must have been the person who'd shoved his hand into Kenshin's mouth, because his fingers were bloody.

"He could be telling the truth." Houjou said uncertainly. "He's just a boy."

Kobori nodded. "And he could also not. Don't be deceived by children, that's one of the first things I learned." He pulled a length of rope from around his waist. "I think this child knows more than he claims. So we'll continue for a few more rounds."

Kenshin sat stoically as his hands were pulled behind his back and tied at the wrists, causing his back to flare with pain. Kobori crossed Kenshin's legs next, tying them together and then pulling the extra rope over Kenshin's shoulders where he passed it through the rope binding his hands.

Then Kenshin screamed, because Kobori had placed a foot on his back and was shoving him towards the ground even as he pulled up on the ropes. Gradually, Kenshin was shoved to the ground so that his legs lay flat against his chest, and Kobori tied the ropes off before letting his foot fall from Kenshin's back. Already Kenshin felt the muscles in his legs clenching painfully from the constricted position.

"Some people can stay like this for hours." Kobori said. "They'll turn all shades of colors, starting with pink, then changing to red, violet. Blue is the last color." He knelt in front of Kenshin. "It's up to you how many colors you change. I'll be waiting right here if you want to tell me something."

Lying on his stomach with his legs folded under him, Kenshin couldn't see what color his body was, but his legs felt warm, like he'd just finished a rigorous training session. He could stand this, it wasn't so bad.

"Give it time." Kobori said, as if reading his mind.

Time indeed. The minutes ticked away, and as time wore on Kenshin felt a fiery pain begin to build in his chest, slowly at first, crawling to his arms and legs, then spreading like wildfire to his stomach, his head, even the tips of his toes and fingers. A sound like rushing wind filled his ears, and he wanted so badly to scream, to beg them to stop. It was different than the pain in his back: this pain wasn't a flesh wound, with the ache coming in pulses, it radiated from the very core of his body, constant and steady.

Kenshin had thought the torture had reached its peak, but unbelievably the burning sensation intensified again, so that he felt as if waves of flame were consuming his entire body inch by inch, and he couldn't bear it anymore.

"Stop, please, just stop!" He sounded ridiculous with his swollen tongue, but he didn't care. He just wanted this to end.

Kobori looked at him dispassionately. "A name?"

He couldn't say his master's name, that was what Jisaemon wanted. But if Kenshin offered nothing this would continue, and he was finding it hard to breathe now, sucking in air in short gasps. Was this it, was he dying? It was unbearable, this agony, and like loosed floodgates Kenshin's determination not to say anything about his shishou crumbled. "Hiko Seijuurou!" He had to stop and force air through his uncooperative lungs. "He's−my shishou." His voice sounded horribly wispy, and he blinked as black spots popped in front of his eyes. He couldn't even take a breath anymore.

"Hiko Seijuurou? Where?"

Couldn't Kobori see that he needed air? "K-kyoto." It was the last Kenshin could get out before the spots in his vision merged into a swamp of blackness, and he fell into it gratefully.

He couldn't have been unconscious for long, because he came to his senses still gasping. He could breathe though, thankfully, even though he was gagged.

Kenshin heard the sound of his cell door closing, and the fading sound of footsteps as Kobori and Houjou walked down the hall. The ropes had been removed from his body but he was still burning with pain; even the slightest twitch of a finger sent was enough to send waves of fire through him.

And then it hit him, what he'd just done.

_Shishou_! Kenshin's heart pounded. Was that Jisaemon's plan? To have the shogunate send forces after his master, so many that not even Hiko Seijuurou could best them? Then he'd have no choice but to be on Jisaemon and Yoshinobu's side.

Who would save Kenshin then? Would he just be forgotten? Would shishou be so mad at him that he'd leave Kenshin at the hands of Kobori?

The idea was too much for Kenshin's already overtaxed body, and he tried to choke back a sob. All this managed to do was send his body into a new paroxysm of pain. Kenshin gave up then and cried without reserve: from pain, from fear, from helplessness; but mostly, he cried because he'd failed his shishou.

**Kenshin is pretty screwed, isn't he? But Hiko's finally in Edo so rescue must be imminent, right? (Did anyone notice that I finally decided to use the correct spelling for Hiko's name? :) ) One thing's for sure: there's a showdown coming! Also, I'm sorry for the zeros indicating the story break (they're really bothering me), but freaking fanfiction won't even let me use asterisks UNcentered now, so, yeah. **

_Althea M_**: **Yeah, Kenshin's one of those "hands on" learners. Hiko's vengeance is coming, just give it time. ;)

_literaryrxn: _He's going, he's going!

_Amamiya: _Torture's almost over, but there might be one more scene to stomach. Hiko's reaction definitely isn't going to be nice for those on the receiving end!

_Iri Wind: _Yay, new reviewer! Love the enthusiasm, hope you stay psyched for the rest of the story!

_t42n24t_: Yeah, the "adult at twelve" that some cultures still use today is hard to wrap your mind around. Hiko's definitely going to need proof of innocence now, isn't he?


	14. Chapter 14

**Ho my GOSH! Sorry y'all, my summer keeps getting busier and busier. I'm not really free until August, so updates aren't going to be as frequent as I'd hoped. Also, these next couple of chapters are killing me, so that kind of puts another massive delay on the whole update scene. Just bear with me though, I am finishing the story! **

Yoshi kept a solid fifty feet between himself and the man he followed. His quarry was unusually observant; he'd sensed he was being watched even when Yoshi was far across the bridge. Yoshinobu had warned him that Hiko Seijurou was no ordinary man though, so Yoshi was careful to keep his distance and take no chances. Luckily, it seemed as if Hiko had decided his senses gave a false alarm, because he walked with the confidant steps of one who didn't realize they were being followed. Yoshi wasn't sure where the man was going but it was his job to keep constant tabs on him so he was resigned to a day of fast walking and ducking into alleys.

Speaking of alleys, Yoshi noticed that Hiko was moving farther into the less populated quarter of the city. The streets were growing narrower and rougher, and the roof height was getting lower. Where was he going? Did he have a contact in the city? Yoshinobu hadn't mentioned that, but Yoshi could think of no other reason that Hiko would want to travel through the less respectable parts of town. Maybe he just wanted to do a little gambling on the side, grab a drink at a local tea house. It wasn't what Yoshi would do if he were looking for someone, but these samurai type were never predictable. One minute they could be your best friend, the next they could be sticking a knife in your back−

Yoshi stopped dead as he turned down yet another street several seconds after Hiko. The street stretched for maybe forty yards, but there was no-one in sight. Yoshi couldn't even see a corner of the white mantel that the man wore.

Had he turned down the wrong street? Yoshi could've sworn it had been this one. Still, the empty road mockingly said otherwise. Yoshi cursed silently. That was what he got for letting his mind drift on the job. Well, nothing for it, he'd just have to backtrack and pick up the trail again−

Yoshi turned and his mouth dropped open in shock and fear. Hiko Seijurou, the man he'd been so carefully following, was somehow directly behind him, the sun throwing his figure into a looming silhouette. Yoshi might have been able to deal with that−he did carry a wakizashi−but Hiko's sword was already out, and it was only a hair's breadth from Yoshi's throat. Yoshi swallowed and held his hands up slowly.

"Do you work for Arimura Jisaemon?" Hiko demanded, voice flat, his eyes like flint.

Yoshi nodded fervently. He was versed enough in reading ki, and he knew this man wouldn't hesitate to kill him. "Y-yes, I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on you." He licked sweat from his lips. "I can take you to him, if you like." He offered. Yoshi flinched as Hiko's sword moved to caress the hollow of his throat.

"Good. Do that. I'm right behind you." The words might have implied Yoshi didn't need to worry about Hiko keeping up, but Yoshi knew it was a threat. He couldn't help but wonder why Hiko hadn't taken his sword. Then he recalled how easily the swordsman had tricked him, and decided Hiko simply didn't find it worth his time to disarm him.

"I won't run." Yoshi felt compelled to say. "Arimura-san has been waiting to talk to you, he thinks very highly of your skills," He was talking out of nervousness now. "If you just heard him out-" Yoshi felt the cold tip of Hiko's sword against the base of his neck.

"I'm not interested in your idle chitchat. Shut up and walk." Yoshi jumped despite himself.

"Y-yes." He fully expected the rest of the walk back to camp to be conducted in silence, but then Hiko spoke again.

"The boy that you took. Is he still with you?"

"Boy?" Yoshi was confused.

"A small red-haired boy."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I-" Yoshi broke off as he was grabbed from behind and slammed against a wall, one of Hiko's hands crushing his throat.

"Do not lie to me."

Hiko's voice sent chills down Yoshi's spine, and he gasped for breath, trying to speak. He was certain his life was going to end, but Hiko released him, glaring malevolently. Yoshi coughed and rubbed his throat. "I live in Edo" He rasped. "I only met with Yoshinobu yesterday. I don't know who he or Arimura-san has with them. I just know they're waiting for you."

Hiko's eyes bored into his, and Yoshi had to avert his gaze. He could feel the man's kenki sweeping over him, so powerful Yoshi felt his legs quivering. Hiko seemed to believe him though, because he grunted, then motioned Yoshi forward. The spy was on pins and needles for the rest of the short journey, but Hiko said nothing else until Yoshi stopped at a small but well-maintained cabin a half mile from the castle district. He nodded at the door, relieved that he'd made it in one piece.

"Arimura-san should be inside. You can talk with him."

Hiko brushed past Yoshi wordlessly, then lifted one booted foot and kicked the door in.

Yoshinobu looked with insincere shock at the castle messenger who stood at attention in front of him. "Hiko Seijurou, the boy's master!" He exclaimed. "That explains so much!" He motioned to Jisasemon, sitting behind him and following the exchange silently. "Arimura-san thought Hiko-san might have something to do with this. He must have sent the boy after us, thinking his age would help him remain free of suspicion, or that if he was caught he would be shown pity."

"That's what Kobori-san thought as well." The messenger said. "He said to tell you that he hopes to get more out of the boy later today."

"Good. You'll send someone to inform us?"

"Of course." The messenger paused. "It sounds as if you expected this Hiko Seijurou to be behind the attack on your caravan. Is there anything you can tell us that might be helpful? Should we be expecting him to attempt a break-in?"

Yoshinobu almost smiled at how smoothly everything was going, and he could feel the satisfaction radiating from Jisaemon as well. This was too easy. "An attack wouldn't be out of the question. Our spies have reported that Hiko-san is already in Edo. I would say be sure to have twenty or so guards stationed outside the boy's room at least, if not directly outside the location you're keeping him as well." The messenger started noticeably.

"So many?"

"One thing you shouldn't do is underestimate this man." Yoshinobu said sternly. "He's one of the best swordsmen in Japan. It's impossible to be over prepared."

The messenger gave a short, crisp bow. "I'll let the head guard know. Until next time." He turned sharply and left, leaving Yoshinobu alone with Jisaemon. Yoshinobu waited for the door to shut, then threw his head back and laughed.

"Do you think Seijurou will find it ironic that we're considered friends of the shogunate now, and that he's the enemy?"

Jisaemon chuckled. "I don't think ironic is what he'll be thinking but it certainly is."

Yoshinobu's laughter stopped then, as if a sobering thought had just crossed his mind. "What do you think he'll do, now that he's in Edo?"

Jisaemon cocked his head to the side. "Well, there's no other reason he's coming except for the boy. Tthere isn't any way he'll be able to find out that he's being kept at the castle though. He would need to ask us directly. He'll try to find us first."

Yoshinobu paled. "And we're just sitting here, with none of the men on guard?"

"That's why we have Yoshi keeping an eye on him, to let us know when he's headed our way. Our whereabouts certainly hasn't been kept much of a secret."

"Shouldn't Yoshi be reporting back soon?" Yoshinobu obviously wasn't pacified. "What if he arrives at the same time as Seijurou? You know we're not strong enough to beat him, Jisaemon, even together."

"Yoshinobu, I told you before. A fight isn't what Seijurou wants. Not yet, at least."

"I don't see why not." Yoshinobu muttered. "We took his prize student, after all."

"Exactly! That's his first priority, his student's safety. And he needs _us_ to tell him where the boy is. Eventually, he could find him on his own, but who knows how long that could take? Killing us only makes him lose valuable time finding the boy."

"He seemed indifferent to the boy when we visited last year." Yoshinobu countered. "Even my master didn't speak that harshly of me."

Jisaemon waved a hand. "Seijurou is all bluff and misdirected anger. He hides the fact that he cares with callous comments. He so badly wants his student to succeed that he explodes when he makes a stupid decision or wrong choice. Hence, misdirected anger. He thinks that outwardly showing affection will make the boy soft so he pretends indifference. In his own way, it's a form of protection. Who would ever think they could use that stripling as a bargaining chip when his own teacher appears to care nothing for him? It's clever, but in the end it's Seijurou's very harshness that ruins his attempts to keep his emotions hidden."

Yoshinobu was silent for a second after Jisaemon had finished. "You really do know the man, don't you?"

Jisaemon opened his mouth to reply but wasn't given the chance to answer because at that moment there was a tremendous _crack_, and the Western-style door that adorned the small house flew from its hinges. Jisaemon was hardly aware that the door had flown to the side and knocked Yoshinobu flat on his back, where he wheezed for breath. Jisaemon was more intent on the person whose massive frame now filled the doorway, none other than the 13th master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, Hiko Seijurou.

_What the hell is Yoshi doing_? Jisaemon shook his head at the thought. What did it matter about Yoshi now, he'd known Hiko would eventually seek him out, and here he was. Time to put his plans to action.

"Seijurou, we didn't expect to see you so soon! You could have just knocked, you know, I don't know why you felt the need to destroy the door. I don't own this place after all."

"I'll destroy a lot more than the door, Jisaemon." Hiko crossed the room in three quick strides and closed a hand around Jisaemon's throat, lifting him into the air. Yoshinobu watched wide-eyed from the floor, trying to shove the door off of him and grab his sword at the same time. For a moment Jisaemon thought maybe he had been wrong in his analysis of Hiko, that his neck was about to snapped in two.

But no, it was simply a warning, and Hiko threw him to the floor after several seconds. "I don't think I need to explain why I'm here, you miserable cur."

"No." Jisaemon rasped.

"Then bring me Kenshin, and maybe I'll think about letting you live."

From the corner of his eye, Jiseamon saw Yoshinobu clamoring to his feet, sword in hand. _No, no, stupid fool!_ Jisaemon watched with foreboding as Yoshinobu lunged silently towards Hiko, sword raised to head level.

Undoubtedly Yoshinobu had thought to catch Hiko off guard, but even as his sword swept at Hiko's neck, Hiko's own sword flashed from his saiya and curved swiftly, gracefully, in front of Yoshinobu.

Jisaemon jerked his head away as blood sprayed his face softly, and when he looked again, Yoshinobu lay on the floor gasping pitifully, his stomach's contents falling out of the switchback slices across his belly. He looked at Jisaemon with betrayed eyes, drew a breath that bubbled with blood. "You . . . said . . ." He didn't finish.

Jisaemon turned away swiftly, fighting the sickness that welled in his throat. When he'd gotten himself under control, he whirled on Hiko. "You're heartless, Seijurou."

Hiko was wiping his sword down on Yoshinobu's shirt. "Don't speak to me of heartless. You've taken an innocent boy all for the purpose of compelling me to do a deed you're too frightened and incompetent to carry out yourself."

"Incompetence and fear has nothing to do with it." Jisaemon said through clenched teeth. "I need the best, and I, Seijurou, am humble enough to admit that I am not the best. You, however, are so self-righteous that instead of acknowledging my deference to you, you throw it aside, indifferent about the lives you could save."

Hiko sheathed his sword. "The only life I care to save right now is my student's. And if I find I'm too late to do so, you will feel my blade next."

"Good luck finding him," Jisaemon said carelessly. "He's not even here." He watched Hiko carefully. The words seemed to come as a surprise, because Hiko's eyes snapped up to meet his. It might have been a trick of the light but Jisaemon thought his eyes widened briefly.

"Don't play games with me Jisaemon, where else would you-" This time it was unmistakable. Hiko's eyes widened, and Jisaemon saw his hand tighten unconsciously around his sword hilt. "You wouldn't." Hiko said softly.

Jisaemon felt a shudder pass through him as he looked at Hiko. His face was calm but his entire body was tensed and ready to react at Jisaemon's next words. He'd have to tread carefully. "If you mean I wouldn't kill him, you're right." He said cautiously. Hiko said nothing, but Jisaemon noticed the hand that gripped his sword loosened perceptibly. Good. "But he is no longer in my possession. I've turned him over to the shogunate."

The mask of neutrality was gone. Hiko's expression was furious; he understood perfectly what it meant to be turned over to the shogunate in times such as these.

"And what does the shogunate want with a _boy_?" Hiko spat. He was almost shaking with controlled rage. Jisaemon didn't think he'd ever seen him that angry.

"Information. Your deshi is a wanted rebel, attacking people loyal to the shogunate without regard."

"That's the ridiculous story you concocted? And they believed you?" Hiko seethed.

"Apparently."

It happened so quickly Jisaemon hardly had time to blink. One heartbeat he was looking at Hiko from across the room, and the next he was staring at his own face, reflected in the polished metal that was Hiko's blade. For a second, Jisaemon truly thought Hiko was going to kill him. He saw his life flash before him and his knees trembled. Then Hiko spoke.

"Since you're so convincing, perhaps they would believe you if you went and told them you were mistaken." And Jisaemon knew for sure that Hiko wasn't just going to kill him on a whim. He wanted to assess the damages first before deciding how to exact punishment.

Feeling bold, Jisaemon lifted a hand and pushed Hiko's blade down. "I'm afraid I can't do that," He said slowly. "You see, the boy's already expressed his guilt and even named accomplices." He looked Hiko in the eye, wanting to see the reaction his next words had. "You, Seijuurou." Jisaemon was disappointed. Hiko didn't even twitch.

"Nonsense. Kenshin's too honest. He must have been misunderstood."

Jisaemon shrugged. "Torture," he made sure to emphasize the word, "can make people say a lot of things. And while I'm not sure exactly what he said, there's no doubt that he mentioned your name. And as a result," Jisaemon played his trump card, "you are now a top priority for the shogunate. Funny, how things can change so abruptly, isn't it?"

"Funny, how you think I'm not going to run you through before you can wipe that smile off your face." Hiko snapped.

"But you won't." Jisaemon was confident. "You need me now. I'm the only one who can prove not only your student's innocence but yours as well." That hit home. Jisaemon had never seen a stunned expression on Hiko, but the look on his face right then was textbook shock. The man had probably never been outthought in his life.

"It's difficult to comprehend, I know. But all you have to do is destroy this man who has already ruined so many and you can go back to your mountain and train your student in peace!" Jisaemon had won. He knew it. Seijuurou wouldn't leave his deshi at the hands of the shogunate, and even his godlike sword skills weren't enough to get him and his student out of Edo castle. There were hundreds of men there, and they were already on the alert. _Ha. How does it feel to be outsmarted, Seijuurou?_

Hiko seemed to read his mind. "Don't think you've won, Jisaemon. This is far from over."

"Oh, I think it _is_ over. But I know it's your nature to be stubborn."

"It is. But tell me, in case my stubbornness should fade, do you have a location for Ii Naosuke?"

Jisaemon smirked inwardly. For Seijuurou to ask that, he must be on the verge of agreeing to Jisaemon's terms. "We do. His quarters are at the South end of the castle, just outside the Sakurada gate. I could even get you specific times-"

"Not necessary." Hiko's sword was back in its sheath.

"Does this mean you're agreeing?" Jisaemon asked, unable to hide the glee he felt.

"It means I'm going to get my student back." Hiko said coldly. "Don't worry though, I'll keep you well updated."

"I'll be waiting then." Jisaemon watched Hiko stride through the demolished doorway and smiled. It seemed his plan was going to work after all.

**Still don't know what I think about this chapter but I deemed it edited enough to post. Maybe Yoshinobu's death was a little sudden and underprepared, let me know what you think about that. Also, not quite sure I nailed Hiko's character in this chapter. *sigh* **

**I'm not sure which comments were made last chapter, so no personal replies this time, I'm sorry! Shame on me, I know. Thanks for everyone who reviewed though, I hope y'all are all still reading! As for the next update, I'm going out of town for two weeks very soon, and I'm not sure if I can get another chapter up before then, so it might be mid July before this is updated.Have faith though, I won't abandon ship!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Ah ha . . . so . . . I might have messed up the cut and paste a little for this chapter. I'm so humiliated. Sorry y'all! The story worked okay without this first part but I thought it offered a little insight into Hiko's decision on what to do about Kenshin, so I wanted to include it. I am so mad at myself right now that I left this out, sorry for everyone who already read the chapter without this. Rawr. But for anyone who hasn't read the new chapter, updates will be more frequent now! Summer hiatus is over. **

It would have been a brave soul who dared cross Hiko's path as he walked the streets of Edo. Even his billowing white cloak resembled a heavy storm cloud, matching the black look on his face. The killing ki that radiated from Hiko's person would have felt like a slap in the face to any person walking by trained in fighting. As it was, Hiko's less than pleasant aura didn't go unnoticed by the more martially illiterate citizens. People running about their errands scurried to get out of Hiko's way, leaving an uneven radius of empty space between him and everyone else.

Hiko's eyes were blind to the path in front of him. He didn't even notice the panicked looks as person after person hurriedly jumped from his way, muttering an apology as they kept their eyes deliberately glued to the ground.

_I'll kill him_. Hiko wasn't sure if he meant Jisaemon or Kenshin. The perverse thought entered his mind that someone else might have already killed Kenshin for him. In that case, he'd definitely kill Jisaemon. Slowly. Painfully. With ample taunting thrown in for good measure.

There was one bright spot to what Hiko had begun thinking of as his baka deshi fiasco. Jisaemon had only considered two outcomes: that Hiko kill Naosuke in order to get his student back, or that he refused to kill Naosuke and didn't get Kenshin back. Obviously any sane teacher would choose the former scenario. Luckily, Hiko wasn't any sane teacher.

As he'd listened to Jisaemon drivel on about his faultless plan, a third option entered Hiko's head. It would be difficult−certainly not recommended given the circumstances−but it was his only viable option. And it would certainly be a satisfactory end to what had fast become the bane of Hiko's relatively short life.

Despite his dark mood, Hiko smiled to himself as he walked. Jisaemon never had been much of a horizontal thinker. He was a staunch vertical tactician, to his detriment. And that was why Hiko's plan was going to work. Jisaemon would never see this coming.

And after Hiko saw to it that his deshi was sufficiently berated (groveling for forgiveness wouldn't be an undesired reaction), _then_ he would turn his attention to Jisaemon. And that berating was going to be much more severe.

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The sharp ends of straw poking into his side and legs like so many tiny needles finally woke him. Vaguely, he realized he had crawled to the pallet in the corner of the cell at some point. His eyes still felt stiff and puffy from crying; his face was probably a blotchy red mess. His back pulsed with pain but the stabbing sensations that had consumed his body last time he'd been awake were gone now, leaving only occasional ghost pain tracing up and down his body. He tried to remember what had happened last. Vague images were playing across his memory like a picture book with burned pages. He'd been tied, he knew that. And then pain. He couldn't remember why he'd been crying though. He didn't think it was only from pain. He must have fallen asleep or passed out after that, because his mind was a blank up until the point he'd just opened his eyes.

Kenshin's heart jumped then, surprise and faint hope making his breaths come quicker. He'd been left alone long enough to go to sleep and wake up on his own? Maybe Kobori had decided his prisoner was too close to death to try anything else. Or maybe he'd decided that Kenshin really didn't know anything and they were going to let him go. Or maybe shishou was attacking the castle and everyone was fighting him.

Still lying on his side, Kenshin brought his chin down−slowly though−so he could see the cell door. A bowl containing a pale broth of some indescribable color sat there, a saucer of water next to it. So a meal had been brought. He really _had_ been left alone for a significant amount of time. He still didn't know why though.

Kenshin started as his stomach growled loudly. It must have been at least a day since he'd eaten. Far longer than that since he'd eaten anything of substance. And even though the contents of the bowl at the door looked horribly unappetizing, he should probably try to force it down. He felt like he could handle food now. He didn't want to be so weak he couldn't move if he got the chance to walk out of this place.

Kenshin eased his legs off the palette first, stretching them slowly. Good, no pain. He had a feeling the next part wasn't going to be so easy. Still moving sluggishly, Kenshin placed his palms on the ground, preparing to push himself to a sitting position.

An orchestra of sensations flooded his body. Waves of electric pain swept up his arms, and his back began to throb in unison. Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, refusing to sink back down to the floor. Gradually, the feeling in his arms died down to a tingle. He could feel something oozing down his back but thinking about it would just make it worse, so he turned his thoughts to eating.

He knew he was weak from lack of food; it felt as if he was moving with iron weights strapped to his arms and legs. He wasn't going to try to stand. He'd probably only injure himself more.

With painstaking slowness, Kenshin dragged himself to the door, wincing as the uneven stones dug new scratches into his palms and knees. His stomach growled again as he plopped in front of the food he'd been given. He stared at it for several long seconds. It certainly didn't _look_ good. And the faint scent wafting up from the bowl reminded him of−

Kenshin shook his head. Better not to think about what it reminded him of. Before he could change his mind, he lifted the bowl to his lips and slurped the contents down in two large swallows.

"Food" was probably the loosest of terms to describe whatever the bowl held. But it hadn't been as bad as he'd imagined. There had even been a chunk of fish in there, although the freshness left much to be desired.

Kenshin drained the saucer of water to wash the taste of rotting fish from his mouth. He felt better already, maybe even good enough to get to his feet. Slowly, he braced himself against the wooden door with one hand, keeping his mind as blank as possible.

_Don't think about how much it hurts, don't think− _

Kenshin's silent mantra dissolved into a voluble shriek. The door he'd been relying on for support had suddenly been thrust inwards, smashing his back against the side wall. He could feel the raw skin that had barely started to heal tearing apart, accompanied by the warm trickle of fresh blood.

"No time for that, come with me, quickly!"

Kenshin's brain was too overloaded with other signals to register the panicked voice. Then a hand closed roughly around his arm and Kenshin jerked away automatically, looking up to see who had entered so unceremoniously. He found himself staring into a black-clad face, only piercing black eyes left uncovered.

_Shishou_? Even as the thought crossed his mind Kenshin knew it couldn't be his master. Whoever had grabbed him was certainly intimidating, but he lacked Hiko's intensity. Not to mention that this shrouded individual was probably half Hiko's size.

"Who are you?" Kenshin was still resisting the pull on his arm. For all he knew this was someone coming to end his life.

"Are you trying to give Kobori-san enough time to kill us both?" The person hissed. "Do as I say, you can ask questions later!"

If the man was here to kill him, he probably would have already done it, Kenshin reasoned. The tension in his arm disappeared and he let himself be pulled out the door. He tripped over something as they left and looked down to see a body sprawled across the doorway, a red line carved across its exposed neck. Whoever this man was, he'd killed the guard.

Feeling assured of the stranger's trustworthiness, Kenshin focused his energy on keeping up. He'd decided this must be a ninja; who else could get into Edo castle singlehandedly and sneak their way to a cell silently enough to kill a guard? Besides his shishou of course.

Kenshin felt a tug on his hand.

"Come on, keep up." The voice was urgent, fearful even. The ninja skidded to a halt, head tilted slightly to the side. Kenshin copied him, trying to pick up on whatever the man heard. "Shimatta, they're already coming."

Kenshin could guess who _they_ were: reinforcements. He felt his heart quicken. Then the ninja turned him around so quickly that Kenshin's head spun. "Listen. I can't keep going with you. They'll catch up to us quickly and kill us both. I don't have time to explain, just believe me."

Kenshin nodded, speechless.

"Follow this hallway," The ninja continued, speaking rapidly. "There are many passages but always stay left! When you see the window in front of you, jump out. Cover your tracks as best you can, even the smallest things help. The jump is far but I think you're tough enough to handle it, and it's the best chance you've got. Go now, before they see you!"

Kenshin heard the heavy tread from scores of feet marching swiftly up the steps. Why were so many men suddenly coming up here?

"_Go_!" The ninja pushed him forward, and Kenshin trotted to keep his balance, sparing a backwards glance as he came to the end of the hallway. He saw the ninja pull something from his sash, saw the flash of a sword on the final step. Then Kenshin turned the corner.

He heard shouts behind him, the sickening thwok of metal biting into flesh. He knew the ninja couldn't possibly last long; not fighting the amount of men that he estimated were behind them.

Kenshin quickened his pace, the adrenaline that rushed through his body keeping him on his feet and his mind off the pain that his body would surely feel after he'd calmed down. The ninja had seemed determined to hold the soldiers off for a long as he could but Kenshin knew it would only be a few minutes at most before they were following him as well.

He turned left for a fourth time, panting. It was getting hard to ignore his back and he knew if he wasn't able to rest soon he was going to be found prostrate on the floor. Surely he was almost at the end by now? How much longer could it be?

He heard the shouts of pursuit growing closer and his rapidly flagging energy surged to a new high. Barring an exhausted collapse, he wasn't going to stop until he was far from Edo castle. Not after the ninja had risked his life for him. He still had time; at least half a minute before the soldiers caught up with him. Kenshin made his leaden legs move faster, forced himself to stay upright as he turned another corner. And there it was in front of him, the window. Kenshin saw with relief that it was a sliding window−no latches to worry about. With the few seconds he had left, he threw himself forward, shoving the papered pane aside even as he squirmed through the narrow opening.

The remnants of his hakama snagged on jagged stone as he pulled himself out, and he spent precious seconds trying to unhook them. He could hear the soldiers right around the corner now, talking loudly.

Kenshin gave his leg the most powerful shake he could muster. Nothing. "Kuso!" Shishou would have smacked him for that.

He was out of time. In desperation, Kenshin yanked his leg backwards, and his hakama pulled free from the stone with a loud rip, leaving his right leg bare from the thigh down. Trying to maintain his balance, Kenshin gripped the sill with one hand as he slid the window closed. _Even the smallest things help_.

The effort proved to be too much for him. He felt his supporting hand slipping, his body moving inexorably farther away from the wall. He scrabbled for the sill with his other hand, tried to curve his feet against the stone wall and pull himself back, to no avail. One by one his fingers slipped from the sill, and he fell to the ground still grabbing for purchase.

Kenshin tried to remember all the lessons he'd had on falling correctly. Land on his feet and roll? Roll to his feet? He couldn't seem to put anything in the right order. He knew landing on his back wasn't good so using what felt like the last of his strength he tried to flip himself in midair. He'd hardly spun halfway before his shoulder hit the ground with jarring force, and Kenshin heard a hollow pop just before his head slammed against something hard. A new pain flared in his shoulder and bright pinpoints of light obscured his vision. Gasping for a number of reasons, he flopped unthinkingly onto his back. That proved to be a horrible mistake. The last thing Kenshin saw before complete blackness kissed his sight was a scrap of blue hakama far above him, blowing gently in the breeze.

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It had been a rough week for Ii Naosuke. It was the third time in six days that he'd had to travel, this time to hear the Mito daimyou Tokugawa Nariaki accuse him of borderline treachery for wanting to allow foreigners to enter Japan and do trade. Naosuke had left having accomplished nothing. He just wanted this twenty-mile return journey to be over with so he could relax with a cup of tea inside his own house without having to listen to arguments and accusations.

In truth, it had been a rough year. The more vociferous the supporters of anti-foreign policy became, the more Naosuke found himself traveling across the country, trying to reconcile samurai clans fighting amongst themselves and anyone in their way, and taking part in meetings where the pros and cons of western influence were tossed back and forth like a ship caught in a maelstrom.

Naosuke had been advised to stay away from any political endeavors that required him journeying more than a few miles from the castle but he had scoffed at such words of caution. His life had already been in jeopardy more than once, and his guards had handled themselves well, so he saw little reason to dwell on it. Everyone died at some point, and he was reaching the end of his years anyway. Better to do what he could in his position, before things got any worse, than to lock himself away in fear for the rest of his days.

Despite his fatalistic outlook, Naosuke couldn't help but feel a tingle of alarm as he drew close to his house, which sat at the edge of Edo castle. A large man cloaked in a voluminous white mantle stood just outside. There was a sword at his waist, and his expression implied he wasn't here for a friendly social visit. Naosuke had hardly registered this when the four guards accompanying him rapidly moved in to form a square around him.

"You aren't expecting anyone?" One asked, sword already drawn. Naosuke shook his head.

"No. Do you recognize him?" No one did.

"What are your orders?"

Naosuke thought for a second. Obviously this man knew where he lived, and from his stance was either a formidable swordsman, or thought he was. If he had wanted to kill Naosuke, he wouldn't be waiting so blatantly with his sword still at his waist.

"Taro-kun, go ask him what he's come for. We'll wait here."

The man called Taro detached himself without hesitation from the group surrounding Naosuke. As he did so, the man in front of the house began walking towards them.

"Stay there and announce yourself!" Taro called. The man continued walking and Taro drew his sword, swallowing.

"Ii Naosuke, there are some who wish to kill you." Naosuke's guards gasped at the man's directness but Naosuke stayed unperturbed.

"You speak as if I don't already know this. Who are you, and what are you here for?"

"Oh, I know you realize this. I don't think you realize just how numbered your days are becoming." The cloaked man swung his gaze at Taro, walking straight at him, and to Naosuke's surprise Taro's sword dropped to the ground and he backed away, legs shaking visibly. The visitor stopped and stood without fear two feet from Naosuke and his guards.

"I've been sent to kill you."

Naosuke's eyes widened in surprise but he found himself unable to move. Taro was scrabbling for his fallen sword as the other three guards launched themselves at the man, each attacking from a different direction as they practiced so dutifully each day.

The unexpected visitor became a blur of white and Naosuke watched, half in awe, half in terror, at what was surely going to end in the death of his guards. Two seconds later, all three of his guards−his very best!−were staring in shock at their hands, now holding nothing but air. Taro had recovered his sword but was staring open-mouthed at the man who now held three swords in one hand.

Naosuke found himself face to face with the daunting figure, and even though he was a swordsman himself, he didn't bother reaching for his weapon. He knew he was far outmatched. Naosuke stood for several long seconds, mouth dry, heart pounding, before the man sheathed his weapon, dropping the three extraneous swords on the ground.

"Now that you've seen how futile it would be to avoid death, let me explain myself. I am Hiko Seijuurou the thirteenth, and some acquaintances of mine wish me to end your life."

Naosuke had to swallow several times before he could speak. "And you aren't going to?"

"I have better things to do with my time. Don't think this means you're safe, they'll still be coming, and soon if I'm not mistaken. I think we can help each other out though."

"Really?" Naosuke's brow furrowed. He thought himself fairly well-trained in reading ki but he couldn't read this man at all.

"I have a student, just a boy, who has been accused of treason and is being held at Edo castle."

"That's a serious offense." Naosuke nodded. "What-"

"It's a lie." Hiko interrupted with such vehemence that Naosuke took a step back.

"E-Excuse me, please continue."

"The real offenders are the ones who turned him in, the ones who are scheming to kill you. They've declared me an enemy of the shougunate now, and if I'm seen anywhere near the castle I'm certain they'll kill my student. I need someone who holds power with the shougunate to get him out for me."

Naosuke pointed a finger at himself in disbelief as Hiko's proposal sunk in. "And you think I'm going to risk my career, possibly my life, for this? You want me to put my life on the line for someone who's already been virtually condemned? What if they think _I'm_ lying? There are already plenty in the shougunate who wish me dead!"

"And if you don't do this for me, you will be." Hiko said unsympathetically. "You do me this favor, and I will offer you protection from whatever attack these acquaintances I mentioned see fit to deliver. You save two lives, and expose the real traitor to the shougunate."

"You think I can just waltz in to Edo castle and declare some boy they arrested is innocent, and that my word will be taken at face value?" Naosuke snorted. "I have no proof that what you say is true. How am I to prove this?"

"Naosuke-san," Hiko's voice was soft with warning, "you're the tairou of the shougunate. I have difficulty believing you have no sway over whoever is keeping records on prisoners. Don't try to play down your influence. You go in there and say you have evidence proving my student's innocence, and no one will question you. Just make sure you mention the name Arimura Jisaemon."

"And what am I to do when they realize I'm lying?" Naosuke demanded.

Hiko actually laughed. "They'll find out within the next day that you're not. Once this Arimura I told you about realizes his plan has fallen through, he will make it his priority to come take care of the job he thought I was doing. The only way the shougunate will be able to doubt your word then will be if Jisaemon doesn't try to kill you."

All the talk of death was making Naosuke realize that he really _didn't_ want to die. Not yet. And if he could spare some boy's life in the process of saving his own . . . well, if he was going to destroy his career, that seemed a noble way to do so.

"You actually have a chance of survival if you take my offer." Hiko added. That was the final push Naosuke needed.

"You have a deal, Hiko-san." He nodded. "But don't forget about your promise of protection after I release your student. I have control of enough men to defeat even a swordsman such as yourself." Naosuke doubted the truth of that, but Hiko's frank words had scared him. He needed protection. Obviously his guards weren't going to be enough if someone as good as Hiko-san was intent enough on killing him.

Hiko nodded. "Good. Arimura Jisaemon. That's the name to give, don't forget. I think if you add that he's from Satsuma, any questions people would ask might be forgotten."

"When am I to do this?" Naosuke asked. "I'm leaving again tomorrow-"

"Now. Hopefully we haven't already run out of time."

Naosuke took a deep breath. This day was not turning out as he'd expected. "I'll leave immediately." He said. "Please, come inside. You can wait there. Do _not_ go outside while I'm gone. If I'm not back within the hour," He closed his eyes briefly and took another breath, "You'll probably have to take matters into your own hands."

**Kenshin finally got a break! I had to give him a little breathing room. ;) And Hiko definitely never had any intention of taking Jisaemon's "deal." He's probably feeling pretty humiliated asking Naosuke for help though. The things you do for your students . . .**

**Quick note on why I'm so uncharacteristically addressing Ii Naosuke by his first name instead of his last. I think it just sounds retarded (for English speakers at least) to read "Ii" all the time. Naosuke is much easier on the ears. Therefore, I have smashed all rules of protocol and used his first name for all forms of address. Bam!**

_t42n24t _- whew, ok, that makes me feel better. Heh heh, love your descriptors for Hiko.

_Kaida Ukitake _- Thanks! Your opinion is definitely valued! I enjoy writing Hiko/Kenshin fics so I'm glad my portrayels are successful.

_literaryrxn _- Hiko is pretty much da bomb. 8)

_ZukoFlame _- Glad you loved the chapter! It's probably the one I've felt least confident about. Haha, it would definitely be a huge blow if Hiko had to do the assassination. But obviously, being Hiko, there's no way he's gonna let someone one-up him.

Sorry if anyone's review got deleted due to my inadequate proof reading of this chapter. I'm going to go don sackcloth now and wallow in a pit of ashes.


	16. Chapter 16

**Well, this is a little shorter than usual, so I'm sorry for that. I promise I didn't leave out any sections this time either. At least the update was fairly quick, ne? **

Kenshin heard his voice being called from somewhere in the midst of the darkness. It was so ethereal he ignored it at first, thinking he was dreaming. Then the voice grew louder, and as it did Kenshin became acutely aware that he was in a _lot_ of pain. If he didn't know better, he would say it felt as if someone was trying to tear his arms from his body. That was odd, because he was fairly certain his arms had been somewhat close to his side when he'd passed out.

"Are you awake yet?"

Kenshin heard clearly that time, and an involuntary shiver ran down his back. The voice sounded very familiar but he couldn't place it.

"Come on, open your eyes."

Yes, that seemed reasonable. He wanted to know where he was anyway, to thank the man who had saved him from the horrors of Edo castle. Kenshin blinked several times, opening his eyes a little more each time. When he managed to focus on the sight in front of him he automatically grabbed for the nonexistent sword at his waist. His arm became a kaleidoscope of pain then, spiraling from his wrist to his shoulder, and he screamed.

"I wouldn't move. You're hanging by your wrists, and there's a very nasty sprain on the right one. Looks as if your shoulder might have popped out of joint for a time there too."

Tears blurred Kenshin's vision but the image of Kobori standing in front of him stayed sharp in his mind. _How_? Had they seen him jump through the window? He'd been so careful not to tear the paper, to close the window afterwards.

No. He'd fallen right outside of the Fujimi keep. Undoubtedly they'd simply searched the perimeter and found him lying there. If only he had landed right! If only he had been able to get his breath, to stay conscious!

"It seems Houjou was in league with this Hiko you told us about earlier." Kobori said.

Houjou? The guard who'd been helping Kobori?

"Unfortunately we weren't able to keep him alive for questioning. But his actions as much as prove your guilt."

It took a moment for Kenshin to understand what Kobori was saying. Then it hit him, like a well-placed bokken blow. Houjou had been the ninja. For some reason-pity, guilt?-he'd decided to try and rescue Kenshin, and had died because of it. Kenshin felt sick.

"So, little traitor, I've been given leave to continue questioning you. I feel certain you can give us something more than the name Hiko Seijuurou."

He must be having a nightmare. Maybe he was still lying unconscious on the ground. _Wake up, wake up_. Something rested gently across his left shoulder, tracing down his arm, and Kenshin stiffened at the site of the flail.

"Do we still have to do this the hard way, or can you put away your foolish pride? I think you know now that it's futile to attempt escape."

Kenshin relaxed as the flail was lifted from his arm. "I only said Hiko Seijuurou was my master. He teaches me kenjutsu, that's all. I swear!"

"Enough!" The sharp crack was followed by tendrils of fire raking down his chest. "If you choose to continue this obstinate approach, you will be tortured to within an inch of your life. Seeing as you're valuable enough for someone to try and rescue you, you will be allowed to heal, and then we start all over again. Is that what you want?"

"But . . . I don't even know why Houjou-san tried to rescue me!" Kenshin's voice cracked. He stared into Kobori's eyes, trying to will the man to believe him. Kobori met his gaze evenly, absently tapping the flail against his leg.

"You have a powerful will, boy," Kobori said finally, breaking Kenshin's gaze as he turned to pace the room. "But unless you have hard proof saying otherwise, all evidence shows you are guilty."

Something snapped inside Kenshin then, and the feelings of fear he'd harbored since he'd first met Kobori were overpowered by anger. "I'm not! You're just too stupid to see it!" It probably wasn't the smartest thing he could have said. Kenshin didn't even see the flail snapping towards him, only felt the lash across his face.

"It would be wise to show more respect." Kobori snarled.

Blood trickled into the corner of Kenshin's mouth, and as it did he felt a blind rage building inside him. How could this man not believe him? How could he possibly think a boy would be able to hold out under such torture? Kenshin felt his body shaking with the intensity of his feelings, his teeth grinding with frustration.

"Anger?" Kobori stopped pacing. "That's new. It's usually one of the first reactions we get. But it doesn't take long to break. Shall I show you?"

Kenshin felt the blood leaking through his lips and onto his tongue. It was still running steadily down the side of his face. Kobori stepped towards him, and on impulse Kenshin spat. Blood-tinged spit landed on the man's shirt, and Kobori glanced down.

"Hm. Turning into a fighting pup all of a sudden?" He moved behind Kenshin, and suddenly a line of fire traced down the middle of Kenshin's back.

Kenshin couldn't stop screaming, even after Kobori had finished raking his finger to the bottom of his spine. His world had coalesced into the mass of raw skin that now sang with pain. He was still screaming, more from helplessness and rage, when a door swung open and someone walked into the room.

"Kobori-san, the prisoner has been freed of charges! You're ordered to stop immediately!" The man had to shout to be heard over Kenshin.

"Who's ordered this?" Kobori demanded. "The boy's about to talk, I can feel it."

"The tairou himself showed up and demanded that the boy be brought to him." The man who had walked in now stood between Kenshin and Kobori, serving as a wall between them. "Be quiet!" He addressed Kenshin. "You're going to deafen me."

Kenshin felt hands moving at the rope around his wrists, then heard the unmistakable sound of a knife biting through hemp. He stopped yelling so abruptly he gave himself the hiccups. "What's h-happening?" His voice was hoarse.

"The tairou thinks you're innocent. You're free." For a brief moment Kenshin's body was lifted completely off the floor and he thought his right arm was going to snap off. But then the rope went limp and he dropped to the ground, wrists still bound together. He sat there, stunned at what he'd just heard. Was he really free?

As if to answer his question, the man bent down to work at the rope still around his wrists. Kenshin's right wrist stung madly but he kept his mouth shut until the ropes fell between his legs. "Come, boy, the tairou isn't patient." Kenshin staggered to his feet, keeping an eye on Kobori as he was led out the door. Kobori simply stood and watched, looking as if someone had stolen his most prized possession from him.

Kenshin found it hard to stand, let alone walk, but somehow he managed. He didn't want his newfound freedom to be taken from him due to a lack of mobility. As he struggled to keep up, Kenshin studied the man in front of him. He was dressed as a castle guard, with dark hakama and gi, his hair in a topknot and daishou at his side. "Is my shishou here?" Kenshin asked, finally catching up enough to trot alongside the man for a few scant seconds.

"Shishou?"

"Hiko Seijuurou."

"I don't know anyone by that name. You're to go with the tairou. He showed up only moments ago and said the man we wanted was Arimura Jisaemon and that you were only a distraction."

Kenshin didn't know how this tairou knew about Jisaemon, or why anyone other than his shishou would be coming to get him, but at this point he didn't really care. Just so long as he left this place.

Kenshin was brought into the same room he'd first entered at Edo castle, and although a half dozen men were there he immediately recognized the tairou. He had a stern expression, not unlike shishou's, and wore a long kimono with flowing sleeves. A thin strip of cloth tied to the sash at his waist hung down the middle of his body.

"The boy, sir." The guard bowed low, back flat as a table.

Following suit, Kenshin bowed his head to his chest, hoping that would be enough respect. There was no way he could make his back anywhere close to flat right now. After several seconds of silence, Kenshin looked up hesitantly. He felt a moment of panic as he saw the tairou staring at him with a disgusted expression. Maybe he wasn't coming for Kenshin after all. Maybe there was some other boy here, sitting in agony in a different cell, and by some mistake Kenshin had been brought out instead. Then the tairou spoke in a voice laced with disbelief.

"How could anyone think a child this young would be involved in matters such as this!" He indicated Kenshin. "How old are you, boy? Surely no more than nine."

"I'm almost eleven, sir." Kenshin replied, trying not to sound miffed.

"So he's ten. Look at him! A grown man wouldn't be able to withstand this and say nothing!" Kenshin could feel the discomfort in the room as the guards looked back and forth at each other, avoiding the tairou's gaze. "Tell Kobori-san to expect a meeting with me within the week." The tairou hadn't spoken to anyone in particular, but everyone in the room responded affirmatively.

"Tairou-sama," One man lifted his hand. "May I ask one more time if you're sure about this? We had strong evidence that this boy could be a part of the sonno joui faction."

The tairou swung his gaze at the man, staring him down. "I have already spoken my piece."

"But maybe this is some clever trick concocted by that man Arimura-san mentioned, Hiko Seijuurou. Have you-"

"Enough!" The tairou cut him off. "I assure you it is no trick. I've told you all I can about the matter, and you'll just have to trust my judgment. Or do you wish to contend my decision?"

The man hesitated, then bowed. "No, tairou-sama. As you say."

The tairou nodded sharply. "Good. Now you," He gestured at Kenshin, "what's your name again?"

"Kenshin. Himura Kenshin."

"Kenshin-kun. You come with me. There's someone who wants very much to know that you're alive, if I'm interpreting his horrible manner correctly."

Kenshin had felt like he might not be able to take another step but at the tairou's words a jolt of energy shot through him. "Really?" Kenshin didn't know many people who would be described as having a horrible manner.

"Yes. We're not traveling far, can you make it?"

"Who is it?" Kenshin demanded, only hearing affirmation.

"Later," The tairou said through clenched teeth, "can you walk or no?" Kenshin nodded firmly. If he was leaving Edo castle, he could do anything for a short period of time.

"Good. Follow me, and say nothing until I give you leave." Then the tairou opened the door and stepped out. Kenshin paused only for a second before following him.

Brilliant sunlight greeted him, its spring warmth pouring over him for the first time in days. Kenshin wanted to close his eyes and just stand there but the tairou's guarded words, and now his rapid pace, made it evident to Kenshin that they were in a hurry.

The tairou moved quickly across the castle grounds, and by the time they'd reached the outer wall Kenshin was dripping with sweat. He was following more on instinct than sight−his vision had become so blurred all he could make out was swirling colors, and now that the adrenaline had left his system his pain was returning tenfold, making it difficult not to collapse in a ball of agony.

"Not much farther," The tairou encouraged, falling into step beside Kenshin. Kenshin just nodded, unable to gather enough breath to reply.

He didn't know how much longer they walked−it could have been one minute or ten, his sense of time had deteriorated too much to tell. He did know that he was relying more and more on the tairou for support by the time they stopped.

"We're there now, just step up and come inside."

It was nice, Kenshin thought foggily, that he was being allowed to salvage his pride. The tairou could have saved a lot of time and just carried him the whole way. He'd been unendingly patient though and even now he only helped Kenshin maneuver the three inch step onto the porch rather than bodily lifting him.

The second Kenshin's foot scraped against the porch he became aware of something that he hadn't felt for what seemed like ages. A ki that was both reassuring and daunting, but always synonymous with safety. As the tairou slid aside the door Kenshin forced his eyes to stay open, desperate to have tangible evidence to prove his senses hadn't just gone crazy.

Even though he only saw the vague outline of a human clothed in a blur of white, there was no doubt in Kenshin's mind who the tall figure just inside the door was. He stood swaying for several seconds, letting reality sink in as the familiar ki surrounded him; letting the gratefulness he felt obliterate his underlying shame.

"Shishou . . . you came." He felt himself falling and braced for it but instead of hitting the ground as he expected he sank into something firm but yielding. And then, just before he completely lost consciousness, he heard two gruffly whispered words he never thought he'd be happy to hear.

"Baka deshi."

**Alright, Hiko and Kenshin are finally united! Now there's just that pesky Jisaemon to take care of . . . **

**For anyone curious, the position of tairou was extremely high. The tairou is basically second-in-command to the shogun. If the shogun suddeny died, the tairou would take over. Ii Naosuke also happened to be a daimyo, so he was just one all-around powerful dude.**

_literaryrxn_: I'm glad Kenshin is amusing you! :)

_Althea M_: Lol, haven't heard that one in a while. He was definitely out like the trash.

_ZukoFlame_: I'm glad my updates can elicit "yay's" from people! You know, I was kind of hoping Hiko would rescue Kenshin too, and after much thought, I decided it really would be crazy, even for Hiko, to invade Edo castle. And hey, I'm sure there are tons of people still interested in your story! I definitely am! Ganbare yo!

_t42n242_: Wow . . . I like your idea about the ninja being part of the shougunate way better than mine! Sorry if Houjou was a let-down for you!

_Kaida Ukitake_: True dat! But Hiko doesn't know Kenshin's still alive, so he can't be too proud of his teaching yet. ;) (and my vacay was tons of fun!)

**Thanks for the reviews everyone! Keep r+r-ing, I appreciate it! **


	17. Chapter 17

**Back to a longer chapter! Quick note: thanks to _Szahara again _for pointing out the typo in the previous chapter. Yes, "interrupting" should be read as "interpreting." I went and fixed that. Curse my Microsoft Word that likes to automatically spell similar words if I slip on a letter. Guess I should just proof-read better, huh? ;) Oh, also . . . I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO PUT BREAKS IN USING HTML! I don't even remember what tag I was trying to use. I think I'm gonna go back now and add breaks in all the other chapters. It looks so much nicer. Okay, sorry, I'm just excited about that, on to the story! **

Hiko Seijuurou was a master swordsman. He could move at godlike speed, kill faster than the blink of an eye−he could do anything he set his mind to, and do it with finesse. He knew if he took matters into his own hands, any given situation he was involved in would turn out in his favor. Because he was good at what he did; skills came easily to him.

He'd finally discovered something he wasn't good at though. Waiting. And not _just _waiting: _purposeless _waiting. Standing idly in Ii Naosuke's dwelling, Hiko felt disabled and useless. He should be doing something, and yet anything he did would undoubtedly make an already bad situation worse. So nothing was all he could do, and it was driving him mad. He wanted to be able to relax, to trust that Naosuke was at least able to get Kenshin out of the castle. But Hiko had always had trouble trusting in other's abilities. Maybe he was even worse at that than waiting.

Hiko let out a breath of frustration and paced the house in tight circles. It felt as if he'd been waiting for hours although more likely a bare hour had passed. He was stretching his ki to the utmost but all he'd felt so far was the half-aware ki of the guards at the castle gates, and the negligible presence of scores of people entering and leaving.

"Damnit Naosuke," Hiko stopped himself from continuing as a ki he knew well collided with his. It was fainter than he was used to, the brilliance more subdued than before, but it was there. He'd half a mind to storm outside but checked himself as he remembered Naosuke's explicit instructions to stay inside and unseen.

Hiko opted to stand by the door instead, staring intently at it as if that would make Naosuke appear faster. It was another ten minutes before Hiko heard a muted voice and noisy footsteps. There was the sound of something dragging across the covered porch outside, and then the door slid silently open. Kenshin stood in the doorway, with Naosuke one step behind him.

Hiko kept his expression placid as he did a surface assessment of his student. Inwardly though his emotions surged. Kenshin was wearing little more than half a hakama, and every exposed part of his body that Hiko could see was either bruised or cut. Dried blood was smeared everywhere although it was unclear exactly where it had all come from. The welts on Kenshin's face and chest looked superficial but his right shoulder was red and swollen, as was his wrist. Both his wrists were braceleted with thick red lines, no doubt from rope tightened far too much, and his legs were crisscrossed by rope burns. The boy was noticeably skinnier, and his chalk-like complexion was only accented by the dark shadows under his eyes and fever-blushed cheeks.

The only words that came to Hiko's mind were wildly inappropriate for civil conversation, so he refrained from saying anything, electing to study his deshi some more. The ki Hiko had been so carefully keeping track of was wavering now and he expected his deshi to fall face-first to the floor. Kenshin opened his mouth instead.

"Shishou . . . you came." Then his ki plummeted and as Kenshin collapsed Hiko knelt swiftly, catching his student across his arm.

"Baka deshi." It was only after he fell that Hiko saw the sickening mess of flayed skin covering Kenshin's back. It looked as if parts of it had once scabbed over but now it was raw and oozing, with fresh blood dripping in several places. Hiko's muscles tightened with anger and he had to restrain himself from accidentally crushing Kenshin in his grip.

"There was no trouble?" He asked through clenched teeth, forcing his eyes away from Kenshin and turning his attention to Naosuke.

"Mostly it went fine. One of the men seemed particularly suspicious but I don't know if he has ties to anyone or if it's just his nature. Either way, we at least have a little time. Everyone there took my word that Arimura Jisaemon is the one behind all this. Keep in mind I didn't mention your name though, so don't think you're walking on friendly ground."

"That's fine. I can deal with that." Hiko was still kneeling, left hand extended with Kenshin draped across it. Despite Jisaemon's mild remark about torture, Hiko hadn't imagined the shougunate would perform such atrocities on a boy. He didn't know what he'd expected but he was honestly unprepared for this. It was almost enough to make him sick, looking at the wounds that covered the small body.

Kenshin's back looked horrendous, and even in his unconscious state his body twitched at a touch. Even if Hiko hadn't promised Naosuke he would stay and protect him, there was no way Kenshin could travel back to Kyoto anytime soon.

"He needs a doctor." Hiko said tersely, running a hand across Kenshin's forehead. As he expected, it was as hot as rocks heated by the summer sun. "Can you bring one here?" Kenshin's ki was considerably weaker than usual, and that worried Hiko more than any wound. Wounds were serious in their own right, but if you lost the will to live . . .

"There's a doctor nearby who I use, I can send someone to get him." Naosuke ran a hand across his hair in a boyish motion. "I'm supposed to have a meeting with the shogun tomorrow." He waited pointedly. When Hiko said nothing, he continued, "Do you have some plan for this Arimura or are you just waiting for him to come after me?"

"Jisaemon's trying to make a point. Once he discovers his bargaining chip is no longer locked away in the castle, he'll come here. And when he does, I'll be waiting. You've nothing to worry about." Hiko stood, lifting his deshi with the same carefulness he would handle his sword. "Do you have a futon he can lay on?"

"Yes, there's one back there." Naosuke nodded towards the hallway, indicating the first room on the left. He looked at Kenshin for several moments, shook his head. "This is one of the things we hope to end. Arresting and torturing small boys without question because someone carrying a sword accuses them of treason, ridiculous. This doesn't happen in the West. We need influences like them." He laughed hollowly. "We're trying at least."

Hiko walked to the other room and rested Kenshin on the futon as Naosuke spoke. "If you could send someone for that doctor, Naosuke-san, I'll wait here."

"Oh, right. I'll have some of my men stay with the boy if you need to leave-"

"Not necessary." Hiko broke in. "Jisaemon wouldn't be above looking for Kenshin out of spite. Your men are nowhere close to beating me, and Jisaemon's skill level is only moderately less than my own. Your men wouldn't stand a chance."

"Most people wouldn't be so blunt about criticizing my guards' skills." Naosuke muttered.

"Most people wouldn't be able to save your life." Hiko's eyes were on Kenshin again. "Is there any salve here?"

"There might be some around the furo," Naosuke waved vaguely. "I'm going to the castle to assess the situation a little more and take care of some business. I'll send one of my men for the doctor on the way." He paused, thinking. "I'll leave one of my guards here in case you need anything. He'll be in the cottage next door. I'll be back later this evening, we can talk more then."

Hiko nodded, already standing to head towards the furo. "Until then."

Naosuke heaved a tired sigh, then left his house for the second time that day.

Hiko spared a last glance at his deshi−still out cold−before making the short trip to the bathhouse. There was indeed a small box of salve on a shelf above the furo, and Hiko wasted no time grabbing it. He wasn't sure how far away the doctor was, or if he would even be able to come that day. It made sense for him to do everything he could and sooner better than later.

Hiko wasn't expecting Kenshin to wake up anytime soon so he was surprised to hear the faint sounds of movement when he reentered Naosuke's house. Gradually the noise morphed into what sounded like frantic shuffling. Then there was a sharp intake of breath and the sound ceased altogether.

"Shishou?" Kenshin's voice was soft and unsure, and for a brief moment Hiko felt an unusual measure of pity for him. His deshi probably thought everything from the past hour had been a product of his fevered imagination.

"Oi, Kenshin," Hiko called from the back of the house, keeping his voice softer than he normally would. He could _feel_ Kenshin's ki stretching out, touched with nervous energy. It relaxed as soon as Hiko spoke.

"Shishou," He sounded relieved. Hiko walked into the room to see Kenshin sitting up on the futon, eyes wide and staring. He still looked like shit, but Hiko thought he was slightly less pale than he had been earlier.

"Turn around," Hiko motioned with his hand, and Kenshin's face suddenly became charged with fear. "What?" Hiko demanded sharply, head snapping around to look behind him. Nothing. Then it hit him why his student looked so terrified, and a rush of anger passed through him. He held up the box of salve he'd retrieved from the furo. "I'm putting this on your back, it'll make it feel better." He counted the time it took for Kenshin's face to relax. Too long.

"Oh," Kenshin's voice was a whisper. He used his good arm to turn himself, but he kept shooting furtive glances at Hiko. Finally, the swordmaster could take it no longer.

"Kenshin, what the hell are you doing?"

"N-nothing. Sorry." Kenshin faced forward then, hanging his head to his chest. Hiko frowned. He didn't know what the boy's problem was. Thirty minutes ago he'd seemed elated that his master had shown up, and now he was acting as if Hiko was the one who'd been inflicting punishment on him for the past week. Hiko supposed unusual reactions were to be expected after what Kenshin had been through so he decided not to worry about it and sat down behind his student, flipping the top of the salve box open so he could quickly study the contents.

The salve was a pale blue and smelled vaguely sweet. Hiko shrugged. It might not be as restorative as something he could concoct, but he supposed it would feel soothing at the very least. The process of rubbing it on a raw back might not be quite as pleasant as the after-effect.

"Try to relax, Kenshin. Your back will feel better after this is on." Kenshin's neck tensed at the words but it was the best consolation Hiko could think to offer. Sighing inwardly, he scooped a large portion of salve onto his fingers. Relax, indeed. This was going to be hell. Gingerly, he brushed his hand across the lower part of Kenshin's back, the one small section that wasn't freshly split open. Kenshin sucked air between his teeth but he didn't move or cry out. Hiko smiled briefly. His deshi had a tough shell. The rest of his back was going to be far worse though.

Hiko scooped some more salve and moved his hand to the middle of Kenshin's back. He'd hardly touched the oozing skin when Kenshin whimpered softly. Still, he didn't move. Hiko tried to go quickly but he had to be careful that he didn't irritate the skin even more.

By the time he'd reached Kenshin's upper back the boy's body was quivering. Hiko reached into the salve box, scooping out the last of the ointment. He waited a moment, letting Kenshin gain some control over himself. This last part was going to be the worst.

"Are you done?" Kenshin asked, turning his head slightly. Hiko saw tears streaking his face.

"Almost." Hiko wasn't looking forward to this. Kenshin's upper back had grooves so deep that Hiko was almost certain he could see muscle. _Kami_.

Hiko reached forward and placed a hand on Kenshin's crossed legs, seeming to use it as support so could inch to the left. "I've done way too much walking recently. My legs are getting stiff back here." He explained. The hand on Kenshin's leg didn't move though.

It was a horrible lie-when did Hiko Seijuurou's legs ever get tired?-but Kenshin understood. It was one of the rare times that Hiko would offer his deshi physical comfort.

Kenshin jerked at Hiko's touch and the swordmaster knew he must be in agony but Kenshin held out as long as he could, clenching his left fist until his hand turned white. Then his bravery shattered, and he grabbed the arm resting on his leg, burying his face in it as he tried to muffle his sobs.

Hiko let the boy clutch at him, feeling the pressure of Kenshin's grip through his bracers. If he hadn't been wearing the protective gauntlets, no doubt Kenshin's fingernails would have gouged some formidable holes in Hiko's arm.

Thankfully, Hiko only took about twenty seconds to finish rubbing the salve in but it must have seemed like an eternity to Kenshin. By the time Hiko was done, Kenshin's sobs had died down to an exhausted moan, although he still clung to his teacher's arm with a death grip. Against his better judgment, Hiko let him stay like that for a minute. Hopefully Kenshin was so out of it he wouldn't remember this brief slip into compassion.

Gradually, even Kenshin's moans faded into nothingness, and when his grip on Hiko's arm suddenly loosened Hiko glanced down. His deshi was slouched against his chest fast asleep, his breathing deep and even.

Good. He could use a rest before the doctor arrived. That was going to be another less-than-pleasant examination.

Kenshin shifted slightly and Hiko considered laying him on the futon. No point in adding a crick in his neck to his list of injuries. Hiko had hardly tensed his legs to move though when Kenshin's hand curled around his waist. No doubt the action was unconscious but that didn't make it any less awkward for Hiko. He sat there stiffly for several seconds, waiting to see if Kenshin would wake. He didn't.

Hiko relaxed, leaning back slightly. Well, what did it matter if his deshi fell asleep on him? Obviously the boy was deriving some sort of comfort and who was Hiko to deprive him of that? He couldn't help being such a reassuring figure.

Anyway, he'd been traveling almost without pause for nigh on a week now and it was catching up to him. He was tired beyond belief and Kenshin's heavy breathing was infectious. Hiko blinked suddenly heavy eyelids. Naosuke had said one of his guards was out there, and there was no way Jisaemon would be able to know that Hiko had outwitted him this soon. He had time, and he would be stupid not to take it.

With that thought, Hiko left his deshi curled against him and let his eyes fall closed. He was snoring within seconds.

* * *

The pounding footsteps quickly nearing his door had Jisaemon jumping from his seat in a panic. Maybe Seijuurou had stupidly tried to approach the castle and gotten his pupil killed. He'd be here for blood then. It had only been that morning that Seijuurou had left, and if he was coming back in such a rush . . . Jisaemon's hand went to his sword, and he moved to the open doorway, holding his weapon in a classic guard position. Maybe he could catch Seijuurou off-guard, before he was actually in the doorway.

The rushing steps were just around the corner now, and with a loud yell Jisaemon threw himself out the door, sword cleaving down at the intruder. His senses almost didn't catch up in time. It was only when his sword was a hairsbreadth away that Jisaemon saw his target wasn't moving but cowering to the ground, hands shielding his face.

In a move that only an extremely skilled swordsman could have pulled off, Jisaemon brought his knee up and knocked his arm off-course. He landed sloppily, almost falling as his sword missed its target by a foot, shearing across an arm instead of a head. Panting, Jisaemon regained his balance and sheathed his sword.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Kunimori, coming here like that?" He raged at the stunned man in front of him. "You're supposed to be keeping an eye on what's going on at the castle!"

Kunimori was staring at his arm, now graced with a fine line of blood. "Arimura-san, my arm-"

"I'll do more than nick your arm if you don't explain your actions!" Jisaemon retorted. "You're supposed to be at the Fujimi keep. Why are you rushing here? Did Seijuurou complete the assassination? Did he try to get into the castle?"

Kunimori looked afraid to speak.

"Damnit man, spit it out! What's happened?"

"Hiko-san hasn't exactly done what you thought." Kunimori managed.

"I gathered that!"

"He-" Kunimori took several steps backward, far enough so that Jisaemon would have to lunge to hit him with his sword, then said in a rush, "Ii Naosuke came in today and demanded that the boy be released. Hiko-san must have talked to him."

Jisaemon blinked. "What? Is this a joke?"

"No." Kunimori held his hands up. "I tried to talk with the tairou, but he wouldn't listen. And then he told everyone there that you were the real enemy."

Jisaemon knew his face was red, he could feel the surge of heat spread across his cheeks. "Really." It wasn't a question. "And why could you not have killed him, then and there? Please, tell me."

Kunimori opened his mouth. "I-I thought-" He dropped his head. "I'm sorry, Arimura-san, I honestly thought you specifically wanted Hiko-san to perform the assassination."

"Of course I did, before I thought he could go behind my back and retrieve his precious student." Jisaemon snarled. He'd half a mind to kill Kunimori. The man looked like a cowering peasant, stuttering like that with his head to his chest. "You would've been just as effective, you moron. If I'd thought you'd ever get close enough to Naosuke to gut him of course I'd tell you to do it! I only want a peasant with no ties to Satsuma, I've said that any number of times. If the shougunate thinks the peasants are revolting over this foreign policy they're cramming down our throats they'll have no choice but to return our land and beg for our help!"

Kunimori's legs were shaking. "Of course, I should've thought of that. What should I do now, sir? Return to my post? Try to locate where Hiko-san is staying?"

Jisaemon looked at Kunimori, disgusted. Try as he might to see otherwise, all he saw before him was a failure. With men like that, it was only fair that Seijuurou got his student back. "I want you to stay here. And maybe you can pray for more common sense in your next life."

Jisaemon's words registered a shade too late for Kunimori. He'd hardly realized what was happening when Jisaemon's sword went through his heart.

Eyes hard, Jisaemon yanked his sword from Kunimori and the man fell to the ground with a soft thunk. So Seijuurou had managed to come up with an alternate plan after all. What an overconfident bastard.

From what his spies had told him, Jisaemon suspected Naosuke was going to disappear off the radar within the next few months, so he had very little time to work with. It was unfortunate, but it looked as if he might have to do things himself. He had no one else skilled enough to turn to. Yoshinobu was dead.

Jisaemon wiped the blade clean and slowly sheathed his sword. Yes, it was up to him now. And he might have to put all of Satsuma on the line, and his chance at ever seeing his land returned, but in the process he was going to do everything he could to destroy Seijuurou. Even if it meant finding that insolent little deshi again and skewering him in front of Seijuurou's eyes.

**Brief historical notes: Ii Naosuke initiated the Ansei purge, which took the land and government positions from various daimyo and other high-up bakufu (shougunate) officials. This effectively retired any samurai serving under them. Naosuke also affirmed the signing of the Harris treaty, which broke Japan's years of seclusion by allowing America to trade with them. Ah, politics. **

**Looks like vengeance is on the near horizon for Kenshin! **

_Szahara_: Yay, new reviewer! Thanks again for bringing that typo to attention! Glad you like Naosuke's good-guy persona. Hiko ass-kicking is coming!

_Kaida Ukitake_: Waha, that does sound like Hiko! Yeah, he definitely has some reason to be proud now.

_ZukoFlame_: I did kind of put Kenshin through the wringer, didn't I . . . I couldn't help it! Maybe Hiko will give Kenshin a hug for you . . . hah!

_literaryrxn_: :)

_t42n24t_: Thankee! Glad I pulled it off.

_CPAnthoni_: Another new reviewer, I'm psyched! Thanks for joining in!


	18. Chapter 18

**Believe it or not, I actually had this chapter finished several days ago. Then I was doing my pre-post read-through, and decided that I didn't really like it, so it underwent major overhaul for the next few days. I find it a little rough in places still but I'm tired of working on it, so it's up. Sorry for the wait, but I promise this is better than what I originally had!**

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A persistent rapping jerked Hiko from his slumber. His head shot up so quickly that his neck twinged, and he put a hand to it, cursing. Had he really been so fast asleep that he'd been unaware of someone approaching? At least he wasn't immune to sound. Unlike his deshi, who despite Hiko's abrupt movements was still sleeping soundly.

Hiko frowned. That wouldn't do. Of course the boy was wounded but unless he was unconscious−and he wasn't−there was no excuse for being completely oblivious to everything that went on around you. Hiko would have to drill him more on that when they returned home. A few extra buckets of cold water over the head ought to do the trick.

The rapping came again and this time a voice followed it. "This is doctor Hattori!"

Hiko pushed Kenshin off of him−still asleep−and made his way to the door, sliding it open and plastering a glare on his face. One could never tell how assertive they'd need to be and Hiko found it better to start overly so than to appear passive. "You're the doctor?" The man in front of him was taller than he'd expected, almost Hiko's height. He was fairly young, with no grey silvering his short, dark hair.

"Yes, doctor Hattori." Hattori shrugged his shoulders against the straps that held his medical box to his back. "I came as fast I could, I was told this was urgent."

Hiko stepped back and nodded in the direction of the bedroom. "Follow me." The doctor obliged, eyes going automatically to where Kenshin lay as soon as he entered the room. Hiko watched him closely, ready to gauge the man's reactions. Hattori's eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly when he caught sight of Kenshin's back. To his credit though, Hiko noticed that his ki remained steady.

"I take it this is my patient." Hattori moved swiftly across the room and slipped the travel box from his shoulders. "Is he unconscious or just asleep?"

As if on cue Kenshin's eyes cracked open, bright with fever. "Sh'shou?" His questioning tone was lined with worry.

"This is doctor Hattori, Kenshin," Hiko explained, standing behind the doctor with his arms folded.

"Oh." Kenshin's eyes fell closed again but the doctor laid a hand on his head.

"Kenshin-kun, I need you to stay awake for me. Tell me about your injuries, please, anything that hurts." He glanced behind at Hiko. "Unless you know and want to save him some breath."

"I know he was flayed within an inch of his life, and his right arm is hurt as well."

"I'll just look him over then, we can go from there. If you can sit up for me," The doctor helped Kenshin raise himself, and although his eyebrows lifted at the liberal amounts of dried blood splattered across the boy he said nothing. Hattori began moving his hands gently across Kenshin's abdomen and Kenshin sat listlessly, eyes lidded. The doctor nodded with satisfaction. "It doesn't feel as though there's internal damage." He took a long hollow tube from one of the many drawers in his box and Hiko watched as Hattori placed one end of the device to his ear and the other on Kenshin's chest. Then the doctor stared blankly into space.

"Do you expect his body to start talking to you?" Hiko couldn't conceal his sarcasm.

"Actually, yes," Hattori said after a second. "This amplifies the rhythm of his heart. Over here," He moved the tube to Kenshin's side, "I can hear if his lungs have been punctured or have fluid in them."

"Interesting." Hiko said grudgingly, more than a little annoyed that his barb had been so matter-of-factly dismissed. He waited a moment more, then asked impatiently, "Well?"

"He feels and sounds fine on the inside, so that's one less thing to worry about." Hattori said as he put his equipment away. "So," He sat cross-legged in front of Kenshin, eyes going over the boy's body. "Tell me what hurts."

Kenshin seemed more alert now, and he shot a glance at Hiko that the swordsman found indecipherable.

"You heard him, answer." Hiko bit back the "baka deshi" that he so badly wanted to add. Maybe now wasn't the best time for that.

"Well . . . everywhere?" Kenshin said uncertainly.

The doctor chuckled. "Maybe I should rephrase that. Are you in pain anywhere besides your right arm and your back?"

"Yes. My tongue is sore." Kenshin stuck his tongue out for inspection, and Hiko felt his breath hitch when he saw the jagged half circle there. It looked like . . .

"Did you fall and bite it?" Hattori asked, frowning. "This is a pretty nasty cut."

Hiko watched Kenshin carefully, studying his deshi's reaction. Kenshin looked like a trapped animal, eyes going wide and flicking from side to side as his gaze dropped to the floor. "I . . . yes. I fell." _Liar_. Hiko thought. He wouldn't have imagined Kenshin the type to do it, but he was almost certain his deshi had tried to bite through his own tongue. It worried him that Kenshin would have even thought to resort to such measures and Hiko decided he would ask about it later.

"It appears to be healing okay but you should keep an eye on it, in case it should get infected. Wash your mouth out every time you eat and try to eat soft foods." Hattori pulled a roll of cloth from his supplies and his tone became more conversational. "So, what do you do when you're not getting beat up?"

Kenshin looked furtively at Hiko and Hiko glared back in exasperation. What the hell did the boy think he was going to say?

"I'm training." Kenshin said shortly.

"Tell me about it." Hattori said cheerfully, taking hold of Kenshin's right arm at the elbow.

"Don't!" Kenshin jerked his arm back, glaring at the doctor. Hattori simply reached for it again.

"I know it hurts but I need to look at your wrist and shoulder. It'll only take a minute. Go ahead and tell me about your training."

Trying to be as vague as possible, Kenshin haltingly began explaining what training consisted of, stopping to gasp and wince as first his wrist, then his shoulder, was examined.

"You're lucky," Hattori said as Kenshin mumbled something about waterfalls and swimming. "Only a sprained wrist, and even though your shoulder was certainly dislocated, it's at least back in place now. However," He held up the roll of cloth he'd retrieved earlier, "You'll need to wear a sling for a good month, so that your shoulder can heal properly."

Kenshin's face was one of utter devastation and he hugged his arm to his side unconsciously. "But−I can't! I can't train like that! Shishou, tell him-"

"You can, and you will." Hiko interrupted. "There's nothing wrong with a little bit of left-handed training. Besides," He grinned, "it'll be a very realistic chance to learn how to fight wounded." Kenshin responded with a shudder that Hiko passed off as a fever chill.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Hattori looking at him with an appalled expression. "It really _would_ be a good idea to go easy on training while he's healing."

Hiko waved the admonishment away. "Healing is your forte, doctor, and kenjutsu is mine. Relax, I'm not going to ruin your hard work." Hiko already had several ideas for some new training exercises, all featuring the left hand. No doubt they'd make his deshi temporarily miserable, but he'd be thankful after the fact.

"Is something wrong?" Hattori's worried voice broke into Hiko's scheming. Putting training ideas aside, Hiko brought his attention back to Kenshin. He was hunched over on the futon, looking queasy. He raised his head though at Hattori's query.

"No. I'm okay."

His deshi was quite glib with the lies today, Hiko thought to himself. Too bad he was a horrible liar.

"I'd like to clean your cuts and put some ointment on your back before I go then." Hattori said, laying aside the cloth he'd indicated would be Kenshin's sling. "Infection can quickly turn deadly with so many open wounds." He turned to Hiko. "I'll attend to his back afterwards, but the boy needs a bath. He's filthy."

"There's a furo in the back, I'll go heat it." Hiko offered.

"I'll help Kenshin-kun." Hattori held a hand out to Kenshin but to Hiko's amusement his deshi ignored it and pushed himself to his feet. No doubt he didn't want to appear _that_ weak in front of his master. Admirable, even if it was somewhat stupid.

Hiko left Kenshin in the doctor's capable hands and strode to the bathhouse. There was already water in the furo−Naosuke must have been thinking ahead and put his guard on the job−so Hiko set to starting a fire, and had it blazing in no time. To his annoyance though, Kenshin wasn't near as swift getting to his destination. Hiko watched as his deshi shuffled out the door, his pace so agonizingly slow that a baby learning to walk could have kept up. Even at that speed Kenshin's balance was horrible, and he almost fell against Hattori several times. He managed to arrive at the bathhouse just as Hiko was thinking he might have to use the entire supply of wood stacked outside, and Hiko raised a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens.

There was a small well just outside the bathhouse and Hattori stopped there, helping Kenshin pour several buckets of water over his arms and chest as Kenshin couldn't very well lift a full bucket with one hand. It took several douses before the water cascading off of him was no longer tinged with blood.

"That will have to do for now." Hattori said as Kenshin rubbed at one last stubborn speck on his leg. "Look down for me now, you should have your hair washed as well."

"I can do it myself." Kenshin said hastily and Hiko wondered why he sounded so adamant. Maybe he thought Hattori was going to end up drenching his back. Or maybe he thought it too demeaning.

Hattori just smiled agreeably and handed Kenshin the soap. Hiko sighed to himself. This was taking much longer than it needed to. He began observing his surroundings, deciding he might as well make good use of the time.

A couple of small houses were in the immediate vicinity, and the way they were centered on Naosuke's house had Hiko assuming these were the guards' quarters, and probably the serving girl's as well. Naosuke was used to being well taken care of, then. No surprise there; he was the tairou, after all.

Bright green spring grass was everywhere but it was so short and sparse that Hiko suspected come summer, with the heat beating down on it and people trampling over it, dirt would take its place. The rest of the landscape surrounding the dwellings was mostly flat and cleared of large patches of forest. There were still a good number of trees, including several groves of sakura which were on the verge of blooming. A few places then that might be good for an ambush, but nothing overwhelmingly amazing. In the distance though, perhaps a scant half mile behind the castle, carpets of green rose above the rooftops and spread in either direction. That, then, was the place to keep an eye on.

Mind still preoccupied, Hiko glanced over absently to see how Kenshin was progressing. His mouth twitched upwards, caught off guard at Kenshin's appearance. Half of the red-head's hair was plastered to his face and the other half was covered in suds and sticking out every which way. His deshi looked downright ridiculous right now. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more ridiculous he looked. The twitch in Hiko's lips promptly turned into full-blown laughter. Kenshin turned to look at him, startled, and that only caused Hiko to laugh harder.

"I think−you missed a spot or two." He gasped out, before laughter overtook him again.

Kenshin just glared and continued to stiffly scrub his hair, as if Hiko's merriment might end sooner if it was ignored.

The laughter died down to a chuckle and Hiko cleared his throat. "I don't suppose you want help with that?" He asked, eyes still mirthful.

"No." Kenshin replied venomously.

"Your arm is hardly moving, baka, you're just spreading soap on the top of your head."

"I don't care." He sounded less spiteful though.

_Hell with it_, Hiko thought. This was going to take forever if he didn't jump in, and he for one wanted some more sleep, and soon.

"Shishou, what're you doing?" Kenshin squawked as Hiko's hand shoved his away.

"What does it look like?" Hiko was scrubbing at Kenshin's head with far more vigor than the boy had exhibited.

"I said I didn't−Ow, shishou!" Kenshin tried to twist his head, no doubt to throw a reproving glare at his teacher, but Hiko held it straight.

"Keep still. I'm not trying to give you a massage, I'm trying to make sure this awful smell you're steeped in is gone."

"You're gonna make me go bald." Kenshin muttered.

Hiko tugged a clump of hair in response. "Not yet though." His deshi was silent after that, and even though Hiko knew he couldn't possibly have been hurting him he scrubbed a little softer.

"You know," Hiko said as he finished up, "if you'd just landed correctly you'd be able to wash your own hair right now." He felt Kenshin start.

"How did-" Kenshin stopped himself, voice turning belligerent. "Well I didn't ask you to help anyway." Apparently he hadn't expected his own teacher would be able to figure out how he'd hurt his arm.

"I didn't think he'd told us how that happened." Hattori murmured, apparently thinking the same thing.

"Like I said, kenjutsu is my forte." Hiko didn't disguise the arrogance in his tone. "Someone meaning harm doesn't just sprain a wrist. If someone had given that injury to him, his wrist would be broken. All of this," He indicated Kenshin's arm, "is because he fell and landed badly." Hiko knew Kenshin was probably praying that he wouldn't be asked to respond but Hiko wasn't about to be so lenient. His deshi was going to have to admit to his mistake aloud. It would make him think more next time. "Am I right, Kenshin?"

He could sense the boy fuming inwardly−he was certainly taking his time answering− but Kenshin finally grunted something that sounded like "yes."

Hattori seemed duly impressed and Hiko gave himself another notch on the metaphorical stick in his mind. It took a damned good teacher−a damned _observant_ teacher−to decipher exactly how their student had messed up without being told.

Satisfied that Kenshin was free of blood and grime at last, Hattori directed him towards the bathhouse. Kenshin carefully kept his head lowered to prevent any water dripping onto his back.

"Kenshin-kun," Hattori spoke as the trio squeezed into the bathhouse, "I just need you to sit on the edge so I can clean your back."

Despite the fact that he was already scantily clad, Kenshin stubbornly refused to remove the remains of his tattered clothing until Hattori and Hiko were facing away from him. Hiko could hear him fumbling with the shreds of his hakama for what seemed an interminably long time. Finally, there was the soft splash of water and Hiko felt several stray droplets soak into his pants' leg.

"Okay." Kenshin said.

Hiko turned to see his deshi situated on the edge of the furo with a washcloth across his lap, his legs dangling into the tub. Goosebumps covered his arms and he was shivering slightly.

_A chill from washing in the cool weather? Or is his fever worsening?_ Hiko frowned to himself. Neither was good.

"I'm not getting in." Kenshin declared, catching sight of his teacher's frown and mistaking it for disapproval.

"You don't need to," Hattori assured him, "just sit there." The doctor picked up another washcloth and dipped it into the water. Hiko just leaned against a wall.

"I can wash myself." Kenshin said hastily.

Hattori gave him an amused smile. "I'm only going to take care of your back. Just sit still for me and relax." Hiko was positive that wasn't going to happen but he'd let Hattori see for himself.

As he sat there observing, Hiko suddenly became aware of a horrible smell permeating the tiny room, a mix of old blood and who knew what else. _What in kami's name-?_ He was pretty sure he'd scrubbed any lingering odors from Kenshin's hair. Hiko glanced to where he thought the stench was coming from and his eyes lit on the remains of Kenshin's hakama. Hiko cracked the door and kicked the hakama outside with a disdainful nudge from his boot.

An echo of the smell lingered but Hiko's attention was soon drawn away from it as Hattori lifted the wet cloth to Kenshin's back. The doctor had hardly touched him before Kenshin was falling forward bonelessly. Hiko moved into action−no way the doctor was going to be quick enough−jumping forward and flinging an arm across Kenshin's chest to grab his good shoulder and push him back just as his bangs brushed against the water. Kenshin's head lolled for a second, then he blinked as water dripped into his eyes.

"I'm sorry." His voice was shaky and Hiko kept a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," Hattori assured him. "Why don't we do this instead. You finish washing and afterwards you can go inside and lay down, and I'll take care of your back."

"Can you go out until I'm done?" Kenshin asked, looking from Hattori to Hiko with pleading eyes.

"What, so you can drown yourself?" Hiko scoffed. He supposed a little modesty could go a long way though, so he released Kenshin's shoulder and turned around in a compromise. "No one's watching you, hurry up." Since Kenshin wasn't really soaking, the bath didn't take long, and soon enough there was the drip of water on the floor.

"I'm done. But Shishou," The words were so forlorn that if Hiko hadn't known better he would've thought Kenshin's favorite pet had just died.

"What?" Hiko turned to find Kenshin with a bathing yukata wrapped around his waist, looking around the tiny bathhouse with a lost expression on his face. _Don't tell me he's got amnesia now_, Hiko thought sourly. "What is it, Kenshin?"

Kenshin looked at him piteously. "I don't have any clothes."

Well. He hadn't expected that. Kenshin _didn't_ have any clothes, and child-sized garments certainly hadn't been on Hiko's "to bring" list when he'd left for Edo.

As Hiko stared blankly at his distraught deshi, Hattori raised a finger. "The man who came for me mentioned that Kenshin-kun might need clothes." He pulled open the largest drawer in his medicine chest. "I took what I could and luckily my youngest son is about your size." He shook out a pair of gray knee-length pants, followed by a light-weight dark green shirt. "He's outgrown these, but I think they should fit you."

The look of relief on Kenshin's face was comical. "Thank you, Hattori-sensei." He held his hands out for the clothes but Hattori only handed him the pants.

"I need to take care of your back before you put this on," He waved the shirt. "Let's see if we can't finish up now. Hiko-san, I'll leave the furo to you and we'll get started." Hattori dipped a bucket into the furo, adding, "If you could bring some more water with you when you're done."

The casual manner with which Hattori delegated him to clean up left Hiko speechless. By the time he'd thought to open his mouth and retort, Hattori was already halfway back to the house with Kenshin trailing beside him. Muttering complaints about doctors who thought they were too good to perform a few simple chores, Hiko went about emptying the furo and sweeping the excess water into the drain before going to smother the fire. It didn't really take that long, and he grabbed the bucket of water he'd put aside and stalked back to the house as soon as he finished.

"He's passed out." Hattori answered the unspoken question in Hiko's eyes as the swordsman walked into the small bedroom Hattori had commandeered. The doctor was attending to his patient with painstaking care, stopping every few seconds to pick pieces of light-colored debris from the gashes in Kenshin's back. Hiko saw that Kenshin's arm was already cradled against his chest by the sling, and he was wearing the pants that Hattori had brought. They might have been a little more billowy than was usual but they seemed to fit well enough.

"So tell me, doctor," Hiko sat the bucket of water at Hattori's side, "how long do you think he needs before traveling back to Kyoto?" Mostly Hiko wanted to provoke a shocked reaction from the doctor, but he was honestly curious as well. Kenshin's capacity to recover from scrapes and bruises was impressive but Hiko had never seen a child with wounds as severe as his deshi's. Kenshin had been damned lucky, and Hiko wasn't going to push that luck any further than he had to.

"I think you probably know that Kyoto is out of the question for a considerable time." Hattori spoke softly as he dipped his cloth into the bucket Hiko had brought. A pale red cloud blossomed in the clear water. "It's a wonder he's still alive. I wouldn't think-" Hattori stopped, as if deciding against his choice of words. "His body is fighting hard." He continued. "The fever is nothing to worry about as long as it doesn't get too high."

Hattori dabbed at a fleck of dirt on Kenshin's back and Hiko pointed as muscles in his deshi's legs started twitching.

"Can he feel it?"

"Not at all, that's just muscle spasms," Hattori spoke without looking. "It's been happening on and off for some time now, throughout his entire body. It comes from having the body's blood flow reduced for extended periods of time."

The expression of wrath that passed across Hiko's face had Hattori wishing his explanation had been more tactful. "There's no permanent damage though," He hastened to add. "His muscles will probably pain him suddenly for the next few days but it should fade away."

"It damn well better. How would he train like that?" Hiko could care less about the flicker of abhorrence he saw in Hattori's expression. Let the man think he was pitiless. Kenshin _needed_ Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, it was why he was alive, what he poured his heart and soul into. Take that away and you took away what gave his life purpose. If it ended up his deshi's life as a swordsman was ruined because his muscles were too screwed up-

"Hiko-san,"

Hiko realized he was gripping his sword. He uncurled his fingers from the hilt and let his hand fall.

"I'm almost done here. I'm going to leave some of this ointment with you. Use it twice a day. Keep his back well-wrapped, or there _will_ be an infection. There's already a slight reddening but as his back is clean now and it's been treated early it will hopefully not develop into anything serious. Be sure to check it every day though and rub this on it." Hattori placed a sealed jar at Hiko's side then reached into another drawer of his medicine chest and pulled out two small brown packets. "Kuko and yomogi." He indicated which was which. "The first will help keep his fever down, the second will help stave off infection. Mix them with liquid." He handed the medicine to Hiko.

"And Kyoto?" Hiko asked, taking the packets and stuffing them in his shirt.

Hattori sighed. "It's hard to say. That's a very long journey. He could be well enough to travel slowly in a couple of weeks but if he's pushed too hard-" Hiko didn't miss the accusatory glance directed at him, "he could easily regress. Seeing all he's been through, he can obviously tolerate rough treatment but there's no reason to see what his breaking point is."

"Thank you for the lecture," Hiko smirked. "Even if he is an idiot, I do try to keep my only student's well-being in mind, especially if it's a matter of life or death."

Hattori colored, realizing how his words had come across. "Please forgive me, I only meant to stress how serious his situation is. He really needs care and rest or he'll take a turn for the worst."

"I'll keep that in mind." Hiko said.

"And I'm sure you've noticed but he looks half starved. Try and get some food into him. Nothing too solid at first, his stomach probably wouldn't react well to that but at least some soup. I would say that you should let me check on him in a couple of days-"

"I'll send for you if I need you." Hiko interrupted. "It's uncertain what will be happening two days from now."

"Right . . . well. In that case, I wish your student a quick recovery, and if anything happens please send for me." Hattori rose, shouldering his medicine box. He was halfway out the door when he heard his name spoken.

"Hattori-sensei," Hiko waited for the doctor to turn, then sketched a shallow bow. "Thank you."

Surprise graced Hattori's face, but then he returned the bow. "Some thanks must go to you as well. To have a fighting spirit such as this, the boy must have a fine master indeed."

Hiko didn't consider himself a man to be bought with flattering words but he suddenly found himself regarding the doctor in a much more positive light than he had while cleaning up the bathhouse.

_A fine master indeed_. Situating himself against a nearby wall as the doctor left, Hiko smiled to himself. He'd have to see what Kenshin thought about that when he woke up.

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**Things seem to finally be moving in the right direction for our little Hiten pupil, eh? And er, I'd just like to say that despite having tortured myself with scads of unecessary bio classes in college, I'm definitely no medical doctor (although I have relatives who are, so maybe I picked up stuff from osmosis? ;) ). Therefore, I have logicked my way to Hattori's assessment/treatment of Kenshin. Although yomogi and kuko actually are plants used to treat fever/inflammation/etc.** **So don't be too angry if you're a real doctor. Pleeeease.**

**Reviewers! I love you all!**

**Althea M- **Haha, yeah, Hiko's doing his best. I'm proud of him. And I meant to change the rating before I posted the "painful" chapters. Oops.

**ZukoFlame** - Glad you enjoyed it so much! Ah, Kenshin-torture, who doesn't like at least a little, right? As to the reason for the furtive glances . . . it's coming!

**t42n24t **- I'd like to see what Hiko thinks about being compared to a teddy bear. :) Yay for touchingly poetic! Aren't many of those moments with Kenshin and Hiko, huh?

**Szahara again **- Yup, Jisaemon needs to start watching his a$$. Papa Wolf's coming for the kill. Ha, I don't think Hiko could ever bring himself to address anyone as "sama." His doppelganger, maybe?


	19. Chapter 19

**Writing these past couple of chapters has almost killed me. Agh. They're also a little longer, although I think the next one or two will be shorter. Luckily we're close to the end, or my brain might just shut down for an undetermined period of time. It hates when things start to get difficult. :) Oh, brief historical note before you start reading that I meant to include last chapter:**

**If you aren't familiar with the Ansei purge (1858-59) that Ii Naosuke signed off on, it basically screwed over more than a hundred daimyou by taking their lands and status from them (and in a few cases, their life), which in turn left many unhappy samurai who served under them. Just so you know where Jisaemon's coming from. He really does have a good reason to be pissed.**

* * *

Jisaemon whirled through a kata, his thoughts in turmoil. He had been wracking his brains to come up with a plan ever since Kunimori had informed him that Hiko had managed to get his student back. The assassination must still happen, even if Jisaemon couldn't strong-arm Hiko to do the deed. Jisaemon's spies in Edo castle had reminded him that Ii Naosuke was to have a meeting with the shogun, and in fact it had been moved back to the day after next, due to some conflict in the shogun's schedule. If Naosuke were to be assassinated then it would make a powerful statement, especially given that the meeting was supposed to concern ramifications of the recent purge that Naosuke had executed within the shougunate.

Jisaemon was unsure how to go about the task though. He had scant time to work with and Edo castle wasn't exactly the easiest place to assassinate a man. There would be guards posted at the gates, not to mention Naosuke's own private retinue. Naosuke himself would probably be conveyed in a litter−it wouldn't be seemly to approach the shogun in the manner of a mere peasant−and that presented a new set of challenges. With his face hidden by the litter it would be easy for Naosuke to have a decoy stand in for him. If Jisaemon ended up killing a decoy, t_hat _would just be embarrassing.

As if he didn't have enough problems already, Jisaemon knew he couldn't discount Hiko from trying to keep his plans from fruition. The man had been justifiably furious when he'd heard Kenshin had been handed over to the shougunate; Jisaemon imagined Seijuurou's reaction would be tenfold that once he saw whatever injuries had been inflicted on the boy from torture. Whatever level of anger he reached, he would be after Jisaemon's life. Seijuurou might not align his sword with any single cause but if he came after Jisaemon before Naosuke could be assassinated, he was inadvertently supporting the shougunate.

_It will be more complicated than that though_, Jisaemon thought to himself as a chilling idea occurred to him. Without the tairou's aid, Hiko could very well have found his student already a corpse. Whether he liked it or not, he had a large debt to repay. And despite his outward devil-may-care attitude towards people, Hiko Seijuurou wouldn't leave himself in someone's debt. It would make perfect sense for Seijuurou to take it upon himself to protect the man who had, quite literally, given his student's life back. Wouldn't that be ironic, if Jisaemon's tactics accomplished the exact opposite of what he had originally planned. If Seijuurou _was_ protecting Naosuke, it would almost make attacking the tairou a suicide mission.

Jumping towards an invisible opponent, Jisaemon finished his kata with a sharp thrust forward and paused only to wipe the sweat from his forehead before beginning another. Moving with a sword always helped him think things out. As he pivoted a full 360, Jisaemon decided he was just being paranoid. Seijuurou might _not_ be protecting Naosuke, and even if he was he couldn't possibly know that Jisaemon had knowledge of this meeting with the shogun.

Jisaemon needed to push all thoughts of Hiko from his mind. It was doing him no good dwelling on guesswork. He needed to think about what he already knew and focus on possible strategies. A large-scale ambush would have the best chance of insuring the assassination was successful but that lacked the finesse that Jisaemon wanted to have associated with the tairou's death. Still, if it meant success . . .

_If only you were still here, Yoshinobu,_ Jisaemon thought with a wry twinge of regret. Yoshinobu had been good at coming up with solutions to difficult problems. It had been his idea to lure Seijuurou's pupil away, and his again to turn him into the shougunate.

Jisaemon's movements became tinged with viciousness then. Damn Seijuurou. He hadn't just refused Jisaemon's appeal and spit in his country's face he'd also killed the only man Jisaemon had ever considered a friend. The swordsmaster had a lot to answer for. Jisaemon had desperately needed a nameless face−a supremely _skilled_ nameless face−to be associated with the assassination. That would have left him free to quietly build the Imperialist movement, unnoticed and unmarked by the shougunate as a dissenter. But seeing as Seijuurou had had already ruined Jisaemon's anonymity by giving his name to everyone at the Fujimi keep, there seemed little point in staying in the shadows now. Chances were, no matter how Jisaemon chose to go about this the shougunate would only see disenchanted samurai making a last stand for their stripped privileges.

Even though he'd tried all he could to avoid it, it looked as if Jisaemon would have to personally see to the assassination. He would need to find a group of men able to quickly take out any guards, while he himself focused on killing the tairou. It seemed daunting at first but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Why shouldn't he take credit for a death that would have a powerful effect on Japan as a nation? His name was probably being whispered down the corridors of Edo castle as he sat. Better to act now and do the job meant for Seijuurou than wait around to be caught for something he hadn't even done yet.

Jisaemon brought his sword above his head, keeping it level with the horizon, then spun around, whipping his sword down to chest level. He stayed like that for a moment, breathing heavily and letting the cool evening air dry the sweat from his face. A nightingale's plaintive song started up and Jisaemon sheathed his sword in one smooth movement.

He'd better get busy. He would summon the men who had accompanied him to Edo, and get in touch with his contacts spread around the city and explain his predicament. Together they could work on a plan to ensure everything went smoothly two days from now. The dawning of a new era shouldn't look out upon a sea of unpreparedness.

* * *

Naosuke returned just as the sun came to rest on the horizon. As he stepped onto his porch, feeling tired but gratified, he stopped for a moment to admire the beauty in front of him. His surroundings were drenched in a brilliant orange glow that cascaded off houses and trees, sending long shadows creeping across the land.

Sunsets were magnificent. Not only were they pleasing to the eye, Naosuke found them inspiring as well. It made him think about the brilliance a person could achieve, even if it was only for a limited amount of time. Which made him wonder in turn if his efforts to keep Japan united held an ounce of that brilliance, or if he was a mere candle flame flickering listlessly, about to be extinguished by a puff of air.

He didn't feel like dwelling on that idea at the moment, so he took one last appreciative glance at the sunset, then slipped out of his sandals and stepped inside. The house was quiet and the front room empty so he glanced automatically towards the first bedroom, where earlier he'd directed Hiko to lay Kenshin. The door was open but Naosuke could only see halfway into the room and wasn't sure if anyone was there. With a flash of resigned fear it occurred to him that perhaps Hiko-san had lied; now that he had his student, what was stopping him from leaving for wherever he'd come from?

Forgoing dignity, Naosuke rushed towards the room, heart thudding. Surely the swordsman was more honorable than that. He wouldn't have left . . . would he? Naosuke's tabi-d feet slid quietly to a stop just outside the room and he stared through the open doorway. His eyes closed briefly in gratitude. It wasn't what he expected to see but to his relief Hiko-san had not left. He was at the back of the room, sitting against the wall with his eyes closed and looking more peaceful than Naosuke imagined anyone ever saw him. In fact, now that Naosuke had time to notice and wasn't worrying about a sword carving into his belly, he could see that Hiko-san's face was actually quite young. He was probably barely into his twenties; certainly not thirty yet. Interesting, that a man at that age would choose to burden himself with a student.

Said student lay sleeping on the futon close by, his back wrapped in bandages. Naosuke smiled at the boy's obvious attempt to obtain some sort of comfort from his teacher. Kenshin was pressed as close to Hiko as he could get without actually laying in his lap, and his left arm was draped loosely across Hiko's outstretched legs.

Naosuke noticed that for all his affected nonchalance, Hiko's body was slightly inclined towards Kenshin and one hand rested carelessly on his student's head, a gesture that spoke volumes and belied his harsh attitude. Not for the first time, it struck Naosuke that the swordsmaster must care deeply for the slight redhead. He wasn't sure of the details but it was obvious that Hiko had exhausted himself to get to his destination as quickly as possible. Then he had actually sought out Naosuke to bargain for his student's release. That wasn't mere self-interest. It seemed the boy mattered to him to such a degree that he was afraid to admit it, to himself or his student. _Not with kind words, at least_, Naosuke thought as he continued to watch the sleeping duo.

Hiko shifted then and Naosuke took a step back. He'd just leave them be and wait for Hiko-san to wake up−

The floorboard behind Naosuke creaked loudly, and Hiko's eyes snapped open, the peaceful look vanishing so quickly Naosuke wondered if he'd imagined it.

"What're you smiling at?" Hiko's hand had moved from Kenshin's head to the hilt of his katana almost before his eyes opened, and once again he was shrouded with a cloak of haughty superiority and indifference. Suddenly his face didn't seem so young anymore.

Naosuke found himself admiring the lightning fast transition in Hiko's body language, then realized he was still smiling dumbly. "I was just enjoying the fact that I could save someone's life." Naosuke offered.

"Hm." Hiko's obsidian eyes met his and Naosuke almost had himself believing that Hiko was reading his thoughts. Then the swordsmaster looked away, reaching his arms up in a stretch before nudging Kenshin's hand from his legs and standing. "The doctor came."

Naosuke supposed that was meant as a thank you, so he said, "I'm glad I could help." They stood there awkwardly then, neither moving or speaking, and it was Hiko who broke the impasse.

"I don't suppose you've eaten already?"

"No, no," Naosuke spoke eagerly, glad to have a topic to converse about. "I have a serving girl who usually prepares the meal but she's been ill recently. I'm not much of a cook, I'm ashamed to say . . ."

Hiko nodded at the sleeping form behind them. "My student's a surprisingly good cook but I think if he had to do anything at this point the only thing he'd be successful at is ending his life."

"I wouldn't think of asking him . . ." Naosuke trailed off when he saw the tug at Hiko's lips. So he'd been joking. _What an odd sense of humor_. "I would say we could go out," Naosuke began hesitantly, "but it really doesn't seem a good idea under the circumstances. Kenshin-kun is in no shape to be up and about and it seems ill-advised to leave him here." Naosuke was also fairly certain that Hiko wasn't letting his deshi out of sight anytime soon.

"Luckily, I'm perfectly capable of cooking," Hiko said, "and somewhat skilled if I may say so."

Was he offering to cook for them? Naosuke regarded the tall swordsman, trying to tell if he was serious. Judging from the unashamed boast he'd tacked on, yes. "Help yourself to what's in the kitchen." Naosuke offered. "I have fresh fish and tofu brought in every day, they should be in a bucket by the back door."

Hiko nodded and disappeared. For the next half hour Naosuke listened to the clang of dishes, the soft knocking of bamboo cutlery against them, and the sizzle of food. Naosuke busied himself making preparations for tea−he was a passionate disciple of cha no yu−but he stopped to breathe in the delicious smells that soon begin wafting from the kitchen. There was the scent of sea bream, and the tang of seared daikon, and something else that Naosuke couldn't place although it wasn't unpleasant.

Hiko stepped out of the kitchen looking as self-possessed as ever, holding two steaming dishes of food in each hand. His eyes passed over the items Naosuke had been carefully arranging.

"I hope you'll have tea with me afterwards?" Naosuke queried, following his eyes.

Hiko sat the dishes on the low table that rested in the middle of the front room. "I find saké a better end to a meal but I'm not opposed to tea every now and again." He sat cross-legged at the table and gestured to the food as he picked up a pair of chopsticks.

Naosuke followed suit, eager to try the delicious-smelling dinner. "Ittadakimasu." He reached for the sea bream, seared to a dark gold, and brought a tiny piece to his lips. The taste was remarkable, better than anything even his serving girl had prepared for him.

"Is it not to your liking?" Naosuke saw Hiko was watching him and he hastily shook his head, swallowing.

"No it's−it's wonderful!" He dug in with gusto, marveling that a swordsman of all people could cook such marvelous food. It seemed Hiko had been expecting a reaction along that line because he nodded matter-of-factly.

For the next half hour the click of chopsticks and the sounds of eating filled the room. The sea bream's bones were all that remained after they had eaten their fill.

Truly, such a strange man, Naosuke reflected as he sat back from the table. A swordsman who shamelessly flaunted his power and skill with the sword, yet he could turn around and make a meal as well as any cook at a respectable inn. Naosuke wondered what other secrets the man kept bottled up inside, just waiting to impress some unsuspecting person.

"About tomorrow," Hiko broke into Naosuke's ruminations. "You mentioned a meeting with the shogun?"

"Ah, yes." Naosuke stood. "I was just informed that it's been pushed back to the day after. Let me prepare tea, and we can discuss it."

Hiko followed him to where the chawan rested and sat with legs crossed in front of him. Somehow it didn't surprise Naosuke that he didn't adopt the traditional seiza. Improper, and on the cusp of being rude, but it wasn't meant to be a formal tea ceremony anyway, so it didn't bother him as much as it normally would.

The small brazier that the water kettle sat on was already hot, and questioning Hiko's patience for anything too drawn out and ritualistic Naosuke went straight to the act of making tea. He scooped a generous portion of bitter green powder into one of the chawan, pouring hot water into it and whisking it briskly for a minute. He passed the small bowl to Hiko before preparing his own tea.

Hiko sipped politely at the bitter liquid−how anyone could drink green tea over saké, he'd never know−then sat the chawan down and addressed Naosuke. "Your meeting−what is it about?"

"Ah . . . well . . ." Naosuke would rather have not told Hiko what the meeting would consist of−the swordsman was a samurai in all but name−but he answered none-the-less. "It's supposed to center around the upcoming backlash from the purge within the shougunate. The shougun believes the samurai will band together and riot. We're to formulate some sort of plan to−discourage this." He held his breath but Hiko showed no untoward reaction to the information and Naosuke relaxed, bringing the chawan to his lips.

"Jisaemon will find a way to strike then."

Naosuke wasn't expecting the bluntness, almost choked on his tea. "How can you be so certain?" He asked after he'd recovered.

"That man at the keep that you mentioned, who questioned your decision to release Kenshin. He's certainly working for Jisaemon."

"It's a possibility I suppose, but-"

"It's certain." Hiko reiterated. "What lowly castle guard is going to dare speak out against his tairou? He could lose his position, his honor, not to mention his life. However, if he's not truly working for you he loses nothing by throwing doubt on your word."

Naosuke ran the logic through his mind, found it sound. "That still doesn't explain how Arimura-san would know about the meeting. Especially with such a last-minute change! The keep guards know nothing of it."

The expression on Hiko's face made Naosuke feel like a dense student. "If one spy could get in there, I guarantee there are others. They've probably infiltrated numerous sections of the castle. Your meeting is no secret to Jisaemon and he certainly doesn't want the shougunate issuing orders against samurai. There's no better way to make that point than to disrupt a meeting about that very subject. That's something the shougunate can't ignore even if they want to."

Naosuke sat silently, letting the words sink in. He didn't know or care what point Jisaemon was trying to make. It was a moot issue to him. What was more important was stopping him and Naosuke didn't have the first idea how. Putting the meeting off for any amount of time was out of the question. "That meeting must happen on the date already set."

"I'm not suggesting it doesn't."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"You go to the meeting."

Naosuke gaped at the man in front of him. "But you just said −Arimura-san−"

"You seem to be forgetting I gave you my word that I would protect you. And Hiko Seijuurou the 13th does not break his word."

"What will you do then?" Naosuke asked. He was finding it hard to envision the conspicuously tall man with his equally conspicuous mantle casually walking into the castle behind him.

"That, I'm still working on. In the end though, Jisaemon won't trouble anyone again."

"So I'm just to go about my business and trust you?" Naosuke murmured, almost to himself.

"Yes."

* * *

Kenshin came awake in a sheer panic, disoriented and certain that someone was coming after him. Visions of bamboo-wielding men chasing him across hallways stained dark with blood still danced in front of his eyes and he shoved himself to his knees, shuffling through the darkness as fast as he dared until he collided with a hard surface. He ignored the sudden pain that shot through his injured arm and raised a hand blindly to knock whatever was in front of him out of the way. He _had_ to get out, they were right behind him.

His hand never got farther than his shoulder because someone grabbed it, pulling him backwards. Kenshin yelped and fought desperately against the steel grip, twisting around and kicking out wildly. One of his feet glanced off his target ineffectively.

"Kenshin,"

He was so worked up that it took him several seconds to recognize the low, rumbling voice, and by the time it clicked he was almost sobbing in his desperation to free himself.

"Kenshin!"

He stopped struggling, chest heaving as he tried to control his emotions and banish the pure terror that gripped him.

"You're not going to try and hit me, are you?" The grip on his arm fell away and Kenshin tried to pick out his shishou's face as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He could just make out a shadowy figure silhouetted by the filtered moonlight. Kenshin swallowed, controlling a childish urge to jump into his shishou's lap and hide his face in that great cloak. Shsihou would probably throw him against the wall for that anyway, for a number of reasons.

"I had a nightmare." Kenshin explained needlessly, glad that the tears on his face were hidden by the darkness.

"So I gathered." Hiko answered wryly.

Kenshin wished he could see the expression on his shishou's face. Maybe he was angry. Kenshin _had_ kicked him, even if the only damage he'd given had been to Hiko's pride. Not to mention that it was his fault Hiko was in Edo in the first place . . . and the reason Hiko had been woken from his sleep . . . and . . .

He had to stop thinking like that. Hiko didn't _seem_ angry but Kenshin knew as well as anyone that his shishou was an expert at keeping his feelings hidden when he wanted. Which was always.

Kenshin shivered as the nightmare flashed through his mind again and another wave of terror swept over him. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the vivid images from replaying themselves; darkness was proving more powerful than his teacher's strong ki. He had to get control of himself, before shishou began wondering why he was teaching such a baby the powerful art of Hiten Mitsurugi.

With a hitch that drove the air from his lungs, Kenshin realized that learning Hiten Mitsurugi was no longer something he could take for granted. He'd left, after all, actually had the nerve to say he'd quit. Shishou had even taken his sword. What teacher wanted to take back such a disrespectful student?

Taking a shuddering breath, Kenshin winced as his back throbbed. His frantic movements had stressed it too much, and it was really starting to hurt. And his painfully empty stomach was now churning madly. Vertigo grabbed at him and Kenshin shut his eyes as he felt nausea welling up.

_No, no, no. I can't throw up in front of shishou_! Briefly he wondered if the rotten-tasting fish he'd eaten back in the cell had anything to do with his upset stomach. Or maybe it was the fact that he had nothing _in_ his stomach. Kenshin swallowed hard. Several times. The vertigo passed, and with it the nausea. Hiko hadn't said a word the entire time, just sat and regarded his student silently. Now he did speak, voice lowered in deference to anyone still trying to sleep.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Even speaking softly it was a sharp contrast to the quietness of the night and Kenshin jumped slightly. "I think−yesterday? Or maybe this morning." He paused, wondering whether to qualify his statement. "It wasn't very good." He decided to add.

Hiko stood and Kenshin stared at him. "Shishou, what-"

"You're weak. You need food."

The thought of waking his master up in the middle of the night and then having him go prepare food was almost enough to give Kenshin a nervous breakdown. He'd never be allowed to continue training at this rate!

"No!" He made a desperate grab for Hiko but the swordsman slid to the side easily and Kenshin ended up falling awkwardly onto his futon. "I would rather wait until morning." He protested weakly.

Hiko looked at him, head cocked slightly to the side. "Who said I was getting you anything?"

Kenshin gave an owlish blink. "But you just said . . ."

Hiko raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish. _You're weak. You need food_. Kenshin trailed off, annoyed. His shishou had done that on purpose, making him believe he was being nice for once. He _must _be angry.

"Now that my sleep's already been disturbed I thought I'd have a snack." Hiko said. "Maybe I'll let you have some if there's any leftovers. After all, I would like to limit the number of times my baka deshi disgraces his school by falling over at the slightest provocation."

Hiko's tone was light but Kenshin flinched. His actions certainly weren't making him appear worthy of continuing his training.

"Kenshin," The light tone was gone, and Kenshin scrambled to his feet−or his knees at least.

"Hai?" He asked in a small voice, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. Here it was. Hiko was going to disown him now, say that he had no use for a student like him, yell at him for being so stupid and letting himself be captured−

"Baka deshi, look at me when I'm talking to you." Kenshin raised his gaze hesitantly, inwardly cringing at Hiko's harsh tone. His shishou frowned down at him, arms crossed over his chest in a familiar pose. "What's gotten into you? I drag myself out here in record time to make sure you're not dead and the thanks I get is a cowering baka who acts as if I'm going to hurt him worse than the shougunate did! If you need me to give you a beating for being so miserably unintelligent I'll be happy to do it, just as soon as you're able to train again."

Kenshin had been listening dejectedly, hearing "cowering," "baka," "miserable." Yes, all true, his life as a swordsman was over. Then his eyes lit up, and he met Hiko's angry glare hopefully. "Train, shishou?"

"Yes, _train_, although I suppose you're going to be taking a beating from that anyway, so I'll throw in an extra one for free if you really feel like challenging death now."

Hiko's sarcasm was lost on Kenshin. He was too busy running that sweet, sweet word through his mind. _Train_. He wasn't disowned. Not yet at least. Maybe once shishou heard what else he had to say he'd change his mind.

"Thank you, shishou." Kenshin said fervently.

"Thank you−what? Are you saying you _want_ me to beat you?" It was possibly the most flustered Kenshin had ever seen his master, and he gave a small smile.

"No. For training. I didn't think-" his smile faded. "I thought you'd be mad at me because of what I said. And did. I thought you wouldn't take me back."

"Don't think I'm not considering it." Hiko said gruffly. "And don't think this is going to excuse you from some sort of punishment, but what kind of master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu would I be if I didn't stop someone who tried to kill a child because of me?"

"Not a very good one." Kenshin said solemnly.

"Oi. You weren't supposed to answer that." Hiko groused. "Now about that food-"

"Shishou." Kenshin decided he might as well be out with it. It was weighing on his mind, and if shishou was going to permanently retract his training privileges as a result Kenshin would rather have his hopes shattered now instead of later.

"What now?"

The impatience in Hiko's tone was almost enough to make Kenshin demur but he steeled himself and began speaking before he could talk himself out of it. "I think−that I might have told Kobori-san your name." Kenshin's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "And he thinks you're an enemy of the shougunate now." He was waiting for a scathing remark, and therefore was taken aback by Hiko's laconic response.

"I know."

"H-how?" Kenshin squeaked, trying to determine how Hiko felt about his deshi revealing his name to the shougunate. His teacher's ki was as smooth and untelling as a lake though.

"Jisaemon told me." Hiko didn't mention the context Jisaemon had used to tell him. It would send him into a rage all over again if he thought about it too much.

"I only said it because I thought they would believe me." Kenshin babbled, not knowing what to say since Hiko was giving him nothing to go on. "I thought maybe someone would find you and tell you what happened. I didn't say you were an enemy." His voice cracked and he ducked his head again, feeling tears swim into his eyes.

"You did your best, Kenshin."

"But I thought he was going to send men after you, and then you'd be attacked and killed and not even know why!" Kenshin wailed. "And it'd be all my fault!"

He was so wrapped up in his guilt that he didn't hear his teacher smother a laugh. "Kenshin, do you really think any number of men the shougunate sent after me could lay a finger on me, let alone kill me?"

Kenshin tried to stifle a sniff and was mostly unsuccessful. "I g-guess not." He answered.

"A little more certainty regarding your master's skills would be nice. Still, you did what you could and it didn't work. In any other circumstance it probably would've been wise to mention my name. Next time you'll know better."

Kenshin opened his mouth but Hiko raised a hand towards him. "No more. I'll get you something to eat, and then you sleep. Understand?"

Kenshin nodded and settled onto his futon, wisely choosing not to point out Hiko's slip-up. So his shishou _had_ intended to get him food all along. Maybe he wasn't quite as angry as Kenshin had thought.

* * *

**Hiko cooks? Yes, I know. It actually seems like something he would be good at though. I figure a guy who appreciates his sake as much as Hiko does would appreciate good food too, so why wouldn't he know how to cook well? On another note, I really _do _know what Hiko's plan will be. I promise. Hiko just doesn't know yet. And I might have said it before but concrit is always welcome and appreciated! I feel like this chapter might be confusing at times (read: the beginning), so please don't hesitate to tell me if that's the case. And although I am trying to avoid Japanese in this fic, I did decide to throw in chawan. A literal translation would be tea bowl, but that just sounds retarded in English (who drinks tea from a bowl?), and saying "tea cup" makes me think about garden parties and crumpets, so I went with chawan. **

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers!**

**Kaida Ukitake**: Aw, I HATE IT when I can't read my fics 'cause of time constraints! Glad my protrayels are satisfying, I do obsess over them somewhat.

**Althea M**: Heh heh, er . . . Kenshin might not be completely out of hot water. Teensy chance. Just because I'm evil.

**literaryrxn**: Yes indeed, he's getting there. Slowly.

**Szahara again**: RAWR to Microsoft! I'm glad you're catching these though, thanks! I read this puppy through very carefully, so if there's another typo I'm just gonna . . . commit cyber seppuku or something. Yeah, to all those people who portray (or see) Hiko as only an uncaring bastard-well, he does act the part-they need to remember that he sacrificed himself to teach Kenshin the ougi. That's warm fuzzies, people. (Maybe no one sees Hiko like that and I'm ranting for nothing). And on a side-note, I think someone should write a one-shot in which Hiko meets his doppelganger. That has huge comedic potential.

**t42n24t**: Hiko is dead on his feet, yo. I mean really, who can make it from Kyoto to Edo on foot in 5 days? "Contestant number 1?" "Hiko Seijuurou!" *ding ding ding!* Yeah, even Hiko figures a token bow seems appropriate for saving someone's life. Especially since he didn't pay the guy. :p And as Sano mentions years later, Kenshin never seems to get fair fights, does he?


	20. Chapter 20

**So I've estimated 4 chapters left, maybe 5 depending on how nostalgic I feel as the story draws to a close. *heh* I'm getting kind of sad that I'm reaching the end here.** **As always (I always think it at least, even if I don't always type it), thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! **

* * *

The amount of light that flooded the room when Hiko woke the next morning suggested it was close to midday. Hiko wondered irritably how he'd managed to sleep so late−he was _always_ up with the sun−before remembering that he had hardly slept at all for the past week. And his sleep the night before had been rudely interrupted. He'd ended up taking precious sleeping time throwing together something that resembled miso soup for Kenshin. That kid had some serious training ahead of him to make up for all the allowances Hiko was giving him.

As he lay there thinking absently about how Kenshin was going to pay him back Hiko found his mind drifting to the weather. He hadn't noticed yesterday−perhaps his mind had been dwelling on other things−but Edo felt unusually warm for only mid-spring. It wasn't even April, and yet it felt close to summer.

Hiko happened to glance down then and discovered the reason for such unseasonal warmth. His deshi must have continued to have a rought night after Hiko had fallen back asleep because he was currently burrowed into Hiko's side, the fingers of one hand curled loosely around the Hiten Mitsurugi mantle.

Hiko's first thought was to leap across the room in scandalized horror. His second was to wake his deshi and rebuke him for his contemptible childishness. He ended up doing neither, wondering instead how long he was going to have to put up with this type of behavior. It was unseemly enough for a seven-year-old, let alone a boy who was going on eleven. _But what ten-year old has gone through what he has?_ Hiko shoved the question away as soon as it entered his head. Pity was not the course to take here. Sadly, in this day and age there were many boys Kenshin's age that had been through similar situations or worse. They probably didn't cling to their guardian with abandon. _And there's probably no-one alive __**for**__ them to cling to, either_. The thought came unbidden.

Hiko scowled and rose, disentangling Kenshin's hand from his mantle. The boy's fingers tightened around air but he continued to sleep. Hiko watched him for a moment, observing the slight rise and fall of Kenshin's gauze-wrapped back, noting with satisfaction that his pupil's ki was already stronger.

_Baka deshi_.

Hell would freeze over before he let Kenshin know, but Hiko had missed the little idiot. It had been several years now since he'd lived alone and Kenshin's absence had made him painfully aware of how accustomed he'd become to his deshi's presence, that kindhearted but lively ki always at the edge of his senses. The new-found solitude had almost been oppressive. Even though Hiko hadn't minded before−he hadn't particularly _enjoyed_ it, it was simply agreeable to him−without Kenshin's presence he had found his mind wandering, thinking of what his deshi would have been doing at various hours of the day. It was annoying, actually, trying to accomplish something only to start musing on how Kenshin would have inevitably distracted him or messed something up.

His deshi was stirring now−no doubt he'd noticed his human blanket had left−and Hiko turned swiftly and exited the room. Enough of that. Dwelling on sentiments wasn't like him. His student was safe, Jisaemon would be dead within a matter of days and Kenshin would be receiving his daily dose of ass-kicking−er, training −soon enough.

Hiko wandered into the front room and saw that the shoji door was open, letting warm sunlight splash the walls and floor. Naosuke sat on the porch outside, elbows resting on his knees as one hand framed his chin and the other gripped a cup that Hiko knew would contain tea. Naosuke must have sensed his presence, because he turned.

"Ohayou gozaimasu, Hiko-san." He seemed cheerful enough, which might seem a strange emotion to find in a man whose life was in danger, but Hiko found it perfectly natural. Who wouldn't be cheerful knowing they had someone of his caliber for protection?

"Ohayou." He responded, stopping in the doorway. The sun was indeed high in the sky, keeping shadows at bay.

Naosuke took a sip of his drink and nodded in the general direction of the kitchen. "My serving girl is back today, she'll have lunch for us soon. Would you like some tea?"

Either the man had failed to notice Hiko hadn't had more than a sip the night before, or he was feigning stupidity and playing the gracious host. In which case Hiko wished he would be more gracious and appropriate some sake. "Thank you, no."

"How is Kenshin-kun?" Naosuke sat his cup down and turned towards him, and Hiko saw there was real concern in the man's eyes.

"He'll be fine." He said dismissively. Naosuke was probably waiting for something more but when Hiko didn't elaborate he picked his cup up again.

"I spoke with my entourage earlier this morning and told them what you said about Arimura-san. They're taking precautions of their own and assigning more men than usual for the walk to the castle."

"I thought I told you that Jisaemon's skill was far beyond that of any guards you could find?" Hiko commented.

Naosuke looked uncomfortable. "Yes but even Arimura-san must have his limits and the more men that are there the harder it should be for him."

"You make it harder for me as well."

Naosuke looked at him, uncomprehending.

"I will protect you, Naosuke-san, but as to the safety of your men, I make no guarantees. The more you have with you, the likelier it is that they will be hurt or killed. It seems extravagent of you to put so many of your men's lives in danger when my skill is more than enough to handle Jisaemon."

"I understand but it's standard procedure. They won't be ordered away now, not after I've already told them of the threat."

Hiko shrugged. "So be it." A thought occurred to him then. "How trustworthy are these guards of yours?"

"I trust them with my life." Naosuke answered swiftly, indignation tinting his voice. "I have known many since childhood."

"If even one of Jisaemon's men were to be among them-"

"I know how to do my job, Hiko-san." Naosuke said sharply. "Please just worry about your own."

Hiko shrugged again and let it drop, choosing not to take offense at Naosuke's passive command. If the tairou was confident his men weren't compromised, Hiko wasn't going to try and suggest otherwise. It wasn't really his business, after all. Still, he would be sure to keep an eye out. Something told him that this matter of protecting Naosuke wasn't going to go as smoothly as it should.

The soft slide of feet behind him alerted him to the fact that Kenshin was awake, reminding Hiko of another concern he had about the following day. Jisaemon's ultimate goal was to kill the tairou, but he wasn't the type of person to take defeat without retaliating. Jisaemon would have taken Hiko's actions to rescue his student as a serious affront to his intellect, and since said action ultimately ruined his scheme, as defeat. Kenshin needed to be on the alert as much as Naosuke, and Hiko sincerely doubted his deshi's awareness level was anywhere close to where it needed to be. Come to think of it, Hiko was hard pressed to find more than a handful of times when Kenshin's awareness level was up to par−how many times had he knocked that idiot into the waterfall unawares? Hiko cringed to imagine how debilitated his dehsi's senses must be now. Maybe he could work on that throughout the day . . .

"Shishou, why're you smiling like that?" Kenshin had come to stand next to him, and he regarded Hiko with a somewhat worried expression now.

Hiko waved a hand at him. "No reason." He glanced sideways as if to acknowledge Kenshin's presence but his eyes moved purposefully across his deshi's body in that time. _Some color back in the face, good. But most of the color looks to be from fever, not good. And his face is so concentrated he must be having a hard time with pain._ It could have been better, but then it could have been worse too.

"Ohayou, Kenshin-kun!" Naosuke greeted the boy. "How are you feeling?"

Kenshin shrugged lopsidedly. "I'm okay." Hiko heard the tightness in his voice.

"Would you like some tea?" Naosuke picked up one of the mugs beside him and offered it to Kenshin, who held his left hand up in refusal.

"No-"

That was as far as he got because Hiko snatched the mug from Naosuke and pressed it firmly into Kenshin's hand. "Yes, you do, and you're going to take some of this with it." He pulled the packets Hattori had given him from his sleeve and poured a liberal dose of each into Kenshin's mug. "Drink up."

Kenshin stared at the powder as it swirled to the bottom of the mug and his mouth turned down. "What's _that_?"

"Antidotes for stupidity. I gave you more than recommended."

"Shishou-" Kenshin said through clenched teeth, glaring at his teacher.

"I know, I was surprised it existed as well." Hiko couldn't hide his trademark smirk. His deshi was so easy to rile sometimes.

Kenshin stood staring at the drink suspiciously for several long seconds and Hiko finally swiped at the back of his head, shoving Kenshin's face towards the concoction. "Just drink it, baka."

Kenshin's scowl disappeared behind the cup as he slurped the contents in one large gulp. His face scrunched comedically as he swallowed. "It's bitter!"

Hiko snorted. "What did you expect, candy?"

"I didn't think it would taste _good_, I was just saying what it tasted _like_!" Kenshin retorted.

"Well get used to it because you've got the rest of this to finish." Hiko held up the packets that were still heavy with medicine.

While Kenshin's eyes bulged, Naosuke continued to sip his tea, acting for all the world as if a jocular swordsman and his indignant pupil weren't bantering loudly right next to him. He couldn't have been more relieved though when he heard the shuffle of feet behind him.

"Naosuke-sama, the food is ready." A soft voice addressed him.

Naosuke turned his head to smile at the messenger who had knelt just inside the shoji. "Haruko-kun, you couldn't have come at a better time. We'll be there shortly." Haruko bowed then stood smoothly and backed away. Naosuke rose, clearing his throat loudly. "Lunch is ready. Shall we eat?" He led the way inside and Kenshin and Hiko followed.

Lunch ended up being a mostly silent affair. Naosuke was lost in thought about how the next day would progress; Kenshin was concentrating on trying to eat with his left hand; Hiko was busy ironing out the jumble of ideas he'd come up with since the night before. He'd finally hit on something that, although overused to the point of being cliché, Jisaemon likely wouldn't be expecting. And it would also be greatly satisfying for Hiko.

"Naosuke-san, I have a suggestion for you," Hiko said as he pushed his empty plate away. Naosuke had already leaned back, allowing Haruko to remove his dishes.

"Regarding tomorrow?" The tairou asked with interest.

"Yes," Hiko answered.

"What's tomorrow?" Kenshin broke in, clumsily chasing after one last piece of fish that kept managing to evade his chopsticks.

Hiko ignored him, trying to pretend as if he couldn't see the horrible table manners his deshi was displaying. "It's a simple idea, really. Assuming you'll be going in a kago, I take your place there and you stay back as an escort. Jisaemon will be attacking where he thinks you are, and the rest of your escort should be competent enough to hold off an attack from anyone else until I've taken care of Jisaemon."

Naosuke looked thoughtful. "That might work. You'll be unseen, I'll be disguised, and there won't be any way Arimura-san can touch me if you're right there."

"My reasoning as well." Hiko said wryly. "And it will also put me in the perfect position to fight Jisaemon whenever he chooses to make his move."

"What'f tororrow?" Kenshin asked again, mouth full after having triumphed over the fish.

Naosuke started to answer him. "Hiko-san offered to protect me if-"

"Jisaemon isn't going to stop bothering me until he or Naosuke-san is dead." Hiko interrupted. "It seemed hanging around here was the easiest way to get rid of him."

Kenshin swallowed his fish. "Then why didn't you just do that back home?" He asked, oblivious to Hiko's obvious reticence to discuss the subject.

"He wasn't bothering me back home."

"Then how is he bothering you now? You didn't care that he was going to kill Naosuke-sama before."

Hiko let out a frustrated growl, and Naosuke got the feeling the swordsmaster was not in the habit of explaining his personal reasons behind his decisions to his student. "For once, just accept that you don't understand everything." Hiko snapped. "I will be accompanying Naosuke-san to the castle tomorrow, and you," He stabbed a finger at Kenshin, "will be staying here."

Hiko thought he saw panic flare in Kenshin's eyes for a brief second but he nodded resolutely.

Naosuke looked back and forth between the two. "You're telling him to stay here?" He asked timidly, thinking he must have heard wrong.

"He's not coming with us." Hiko said flatly. "Unless you have a better idea?" He challenged as Naosuke's mouth opened, then closed.

"No. I just hadn't thought Hiko-san would . . ." Naosuke's words petered out. Apparently he didn't understand the swordsman as well as he had imagined.

"Cheh, I can guess what you thought. Kenshin's perfectly capable of defending himself if he needs to. I don't just teach him to hold a sword and look pretty, although he's learned that well enough." Kenshin glowered at that.

"Ah. Of course not." Naosuke was finding it hard to imagine Kenshin doing much of anything the way he looked right now, much less defend himself. Still, if his own teacher had such faith in him it must be well placed.

Hiko for his part had been debating since the night before what to do about his deshi. He wasn't pleased with the options available to him; unfortunately spiriting Kenshin out of Edo overnight wasn't one of them. To have him tag along to the castle was suicide though. It would completely exhaust his battered body and if Jisaemon saw him things would only get dirtier than they already were. Hiko had cut that idea down in less than a heartbeat. The only other avenue he saw left to him was to leave Kenshin here. But not at Naosuke's own house.

"Naosuke-san, what would one of your retainers say if Kenshin were to stay with them tomorrow?"

Understanding lit Naosuke's eyes. "They would be glad for the company, I think. Honmaru-kun will be here tomorrow, he's several houses over."

"That will have to work then." It would certainly work better than having Kenshin collapse outside Edo castle in the middle of a battle. Hiko would be distracted then and he did _not_ need a distraction while he was slowly dismembering Jisaemon (he'd also spent a good amount of time deciding Jisaemon's fate).

It was a hard decision to come to but Hiko was sure he'd chosen the lesser of two evils. If for some unforseen reason Jisaemon felt it necessary to send someone to check in on Naosuke's retainers, Hiko would have to trust that Kenshin could handle it. He _should_ be able to handle it; he was the pupil of Hiko Seijuurou the 13th, and that was a feat unto itself. There was something to be said for debilitating injuries though, and Kenshin had more than his fair share of them. So although his deshi was undoubtedly more skilled than any guards Naosuke had, Hiko made a mental note to make sure that the tairou left a couple of his men nearby. At the very least they could serve as a warning.

Kenshin wouldn't be without a weapon at least. Hiko fingered the extra sword hidden beneath his mantle, feeling the smooth, shallow grooves Kenshin's hands had worn into the hilt. He had thought long and hard about whether or not to bring it, and was pleased now that he had.

Hiko gripped the sword in its saiya and looked across the table at his student. "Kenshin," He waited for the boy to look up, waited for the curious eyes to notice his hand hidden under the cloak, then pulled the sword out with a dramatic flourish of his cape. Kenshin's gaze was uncomprehending for a second, but then his eyes sparked with surprise and joy.

"Shishou! You brought my sword!"

"_My_ sword." Hiko corrected, holding the weapon above his head as Kenshin leaned eagerly forward, arm outstretched. Kenshin stopped mid-reach, confused. "_You_ haven't earned the right to have it back yet," Hiko explained, "but you can borrow it for now." He lowered his arm and handed the sword to his pupil. After the briefest hesitation Kenshin took it.

Face glowing, he let his eyes rove over the weapon for a long moment, as if in disbelief that he was indeed holding his−_shishou's_, he corrected himself−sword. When he looked up at Hiko again his eyes were wide with sincerity. "Doumo arigatou gozaimashita, shishou."

"I'll consider it thanks enough if you keep any visitors away tomorrow." Hiko grunted, making light of the heartfelt gratitude. His deshi could be so melodramatic sometimes.

"So that's settled." Naosuke murmured. He checked to see that Kenshin's attention was fully on his sword before turning to speak to Hiko in undertones. "Hiko-san," he began carefully, keeping in mind the unusually large ego Hiko appeared to possess, "I hope it won't be too much of an inconvenience but besides Honmaru-kun several of my men are going to be here tomorrow, as I normally have a special escort for meetings such as this."

Hiko studied the man. Although Naosuke's head was lowered in deference his shoulders were tense. It was amusing how he was trying to let Kenshin save face and also not outwardly insult Hiko. "Coincidentally, it's more a convenience than an inconvenience." Hiko answered.

The tension left Naosuke. "Good. I'll tell them to keep an eye out for trouble."

Hiko nodded, glad that Naosuke's initiative had saved him from asking about help for Kenshin.

Naosuke heaved a sigh and stood, stretching. "Nothing left to do until tomorrow morning then." He paused, as if reflecting on something. "Hiko-san," Naosuke grinned widely, and Hiko wondered what on earth had gotten into him. "I think I could go for some saké. Would you care to join me?"

Hiko threw Naosuke a wolfish grin of his own. "I think you already know the answer to that."

* * *

While Hiko and Naosuke shared saké together, Jisaemon sat alone with a saucer of his own. He was nearly pulling his hair out at its roots. He hadn't imagined it could possibly be this hard to find a score of men with enough temerity to attack the tairou. But it was. He couldn't even find one of his own men who would commit to his plan.

"Rash," some said, "Impossible," others rejoined. Some men cited family as their reason for declining, some their job. "Honorless," was by far the most annoying rejection he'd received.

_Honorless_, Jisaemon though scornfully. That was the exact word to describe the current form of government: lying, backstabbing, honorless bastards. It was going to take someone without honor to destroy them. And as Jisaemon's samurai status had been taken from him, he had no code of honor he felt obligated to follow anymore.

The night before Jisaemon had sent several messages to Mito via carrier pigeon, requesting any help the province could lend, but he had yet to hear from them. Jisaemon was fairly certain he could count on Mito for support. Although he hadn't expected a response at the late hour he'd sent the message, it was the middle of the following day and still no messenger had come running from the dove cotes with a reply from Mito. Maybe they had sent a reply and the message had been intercepted by a hawk but there was no way to know. Jisaemon's hands clenched, and the saké saucer trembled in his grip.

_Kuso_.

There was nothing else he could do. If he could have traveled to Mito and back in a day he would have. But that was impossible. The pigeon had been his only recourse, and it looked as if he might have to see his mission through alone now. Jisaemon was certain his skill with the sword was enough to defeat Naosuke, probably enough to defeat however many guards he would have with him.

Seijuurou was a wild card though. Wrapped up in disbelief and anger, Jisaemon had unwisely lost track of the man after Kenshin had been released from Edo castle. He didn't know if Seijuurou was still in Edo or if he'd headed back towards Kyoto. Jisaemon suspected he was still in Edo but knowing whether to expect him or not was a problem. A very big problem that he had no way of dealing with if it came down to that. Or rather, he had lost his way of dealing with it. If Seijuurou was indeed watching over Naosuke, it wouldn't matter how many men Jisaemon brought with him, the battle was as good as lost.

Jisaemon swirled the saké once, then tossed it back and sat the saucer on the table in front of him with a heavy clunk. "Kaga!" He shouted, wiping his mouth. There was scuffling from outside, and then the shoji slid open and Kaga stepped in quickly.

"Hai, Arimura-san."

"I have one last mission for you." Kaga waited, listening. "I need to know where Hiko Seijuurou is, and I need to know by nightfall. I'm fairly certain he's still in Edo. Can I trust you with this?"

Kaga nodded sharply. "Leave it to me."

"Do not underestimate his ability to sense you." Jisaemon said sharply. "We can't afford mistakes now, so take all precautions. All I want to know is where he is. And if you can do so without alerting him to your presence, find out how seriously his student is wounded. Am I clear?"

A nod from Kaga.

"Good. Then get to it. And bring Izuichi with you, he needs something to do." Kaga turned to leave but Jisaemon held up a finger to stop him. "One more thing. I'd like to remind you of the fateful end that Kunimori suffered." Jisaemon watched Kaga's face, saw it whiten. "It wasn't pleasant. Don't make me go through it again."

"I won't." Kaga's voice had turned fervent. "We'll leave immediately and report back to you as soon as possible." Jisaemon stared fixedly at him. "Before nightfall," Kaga added quickly.

"Go then. I'm counting on you." Jisaemon steepled his fingers beneath his chin as Kaga left. At least he would have an answer to his question in due time, if not a resolution to the problem. That just left the matter of Mito. There was still time; he wouldn't write them off just yet.

* * *

The sun had dropped from its zenith when Jisaemon finally gave in to restlessness and walked outside for the umpteenth time that day. He'd been consuming saké at a steady rate for the past few hours and he blinked now to clear his head of the lingering effects. He'd have to put his saucer aside for the night; he'd reached his quota.

Outside, the afternoon sky was beginning to cloud over and a cool breeze was blowing intermittently, heralding rain. The day was still bright though and there were several groups of people ambling by in the street. A street vendor was loudly promoting his product, and the aroma of freshly grilled yakitori drifted towards Jisaemon. He hardly noticed. His eye had caught one person that stood out from the slow-moving populace, a teenage boy who looked to be in a rush. As he hove closer−yes, he was definitely trotting in Jisaemon's direction−Jisaemon saw a piece of paper clenched in his hand. He felt his heart quicken and he went to meet the boy.

"A message for you," The boy panted, handing the rolled piece of paper in his hand to Jisaemon.

Jisaemon snatched it eagerly, ripping the fragile binding that kept it rolled. His eyes scanned the message quickly. There was a rambling opening about supporting Jisaemon's cause wholeheartedly and expelling the foreigners. The last several sentences were the ones that caught Jisaemon's attention.

_Mito will not sit back and do nothing. We have sent seventeen rounin, the most we could gather at such short notice. They will reach Edo by nightfall. _

"Seventeen," Jisaemon breathed. It was more than he could have hoped for.

"Sir?" He glanced down. The messenger had caught his breath and was looking hopefully at Jisaemon.

"Ah, you want payment." Jisaemon reached into his yukata sleeve and pulled out his wallet, taking a few copper coins out. "Here." The boy accepted the money with a bow and dashed off.

Jisaemon began to walk back to his house, eyes on the paper in front of him as he reread the message again. Seventeen samurai. It gave him options and already he had a more concrete idea of what he would do.

As Jisaemon glanced up at the sun he saw two figures walking his way. What luck! Kaga and Izuichi were already back, and from what Jisaemon could see of their expressions as they got nearer, they had good news. Jisaemon held up the piece of paper containing Mito's reply and his men quickened their pace.

"Mito replied?" Izuichi asked breathlessly as soon as he was within talking distance.

"Seventeen samurai will be here in less than three hours." Jisaemon told them, unable to hide his delight. "Now, what of Seijuurou?" Kaga and Izuichi exchanged glances. They must have agreed to some routine before they'd returned.

"We didn't go to see Naosuke-sama," Izuichi began.

"We first asked around town to find someone who had seen them recently." Kaga continued. "There is a doctor who treated Hiko-san's student, and with some persuasion, he told us that he believed Hiko-san was still in Edo."

Jisaemon frowned. It seemed as if Seijuurou was going to protect Naosuke after all.

"But his student is badly injured," Izuichi took over. "The doctor said he should have died. So perhaps that's the reason Hiko-san is still here."

"Perhaps," Jisaemon said slowly. That would certainly be one reason. That still didn't rule out whether or not he was choosing to protect Naosuke. But now that Jisaemon knew the condition of Seijuurou's pupil he had an advantage. And with that knowledge he realized what the solution to his problem was.

Jisaemon's lips curled into an evil smile. Let Seijuurou try to protect Ii Naosuke. Jisaemon might have to fight the Hiten Mitsurugi master temporarily, but he wouldn't need to physically kill him in order to get to Naosuke. He only needed the tairou unprotected for a brief second and Jisaemon knew exactly how he was going to accomplish that. The great western-supporting tairou, Ii Naosuke, was going to die the next day, regardless of who was with him. And as for the Hiten swordsmaster . . .

_Prepare to have your soul torn, Seijuurou_.

* * *

**Wuh oh, Jisaemon's hatched another plan. Let's see if Hiko can outsmart him again. :) Yes, I do think Hiko taking Naosuke's place in the kago is incredibly cliche, but honestly I was kind of at a loss (I'm blaming Hiko partially, he didn't yell an idea at me), so I just went with it. Just a forewarning, the next chapter is going to be a little shorter. Sort of a mini-interlude calm-before-the-storm thing. **

******Vocab word! A kago is simply a Japanese palanquin/litter/what-have-you. I found it sounded better and was easier to type as "kago" though. And I thought a Japanese "thank you" conveyed more effectively how Kenshin felt when Hiko gave him his sword. I guess I could have written something like "thanks a million," huh? ;) **

**Thank you reviewers, hugs and kisses!**

**one-who-loves-Sesshy: **Alright, got an Inu Yasha fan on board! I am finishing this story, don't worry.

**Hittocere**: It's not so much that Jisaemon is thinking more of Naosuke than Hiko: it's more that he knows unless something happens to change the current government the samurai class is getting the shaft. He's well aware that Hiko is on the warpath, but as his life is already pretty much destroyed it's secondary to toppling the bakufu. Ass-on-the-chopping-block coming soon. ;)

**Szahara again**: Lol, you called it! Hiko-decoy, in place. And curse computers! That's happened to me when I was typing up essay answers for a class. *rage-tears* Thanks for rewriting though! I'm glad you liked the chapter so much. Yeah, Jisaemon's kind of an ass for wanting to pin his dirty work on someone else. He probably went a little too far taking Kenshin. A long life is not in store for him! I have read the Adoption drabbles actually. *love!* And you feel free to ramble as much as you want. It makes me feel special. Heh.

**Althea M**: Ah, good, I'm glad the Hiko/Kenshin interplay was successful! I agree, Hiko would have made a great guardian for Shinta. But it turned out so much better this way!

**ZukoFlame**: Haha, don't worry about forgetting to review. I'm notoriously horrible at that. Jisaemon is definitely in for a beating. Perhaps a little more than a beating. Oh, and by the way, I read your teaser for the next chapter in RHS and it is making my anticipation meter go crazy.

**t42n24t**: You know, I don't know why Jisaemon thought Hiko would help him either. Just the fact that they knew each other in the past? I guess he just decided he may as well ask and see where it got him. Glad you liked Hiko's response to Kenshin's confession! I had fun writing this scene.


	21. Chapter 21

**Well, this past week threw me a curveball. I had planned on putting this chapter out mid-week, then one of my relatives died so I ended up traveling home for the week and got absolutely nothing done. However, I did get to spend some quality time with my family, many of whom I only see once a year, so that was fun. **

**On another note, yes, this chapter is considerably shorter than the previous ones, I'm sorry! Nothing to do with my week, that's just how it is. I'm not satisfied with how it turned out, but hopefully it will still be enjoyable. I welcome any suggestions with reccomendations for improvement. That goes for any chapter, actually.**

* * *

Kenshin was shivering when he awoke the next morning, even though when he looked down he saw that two blankets covered him. In spite of the chills that shook him his back felt as if it were radiating heat. Kenshin didn't try to solve the paradox, just hugged the blankets tighter to his aching body and clamped his mouth firmly shut in an effort to still his chattering teeth.

There. He just needed a little self control.

Kenshin looked surreptitiously towards the futon where Hiko slept, hoping his shishou hadn't heard his shivering. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that the mattress was no longer lying on the floor but already folded in a corner. _Did shishou and Naosuke-sama already leave?_ Kenshin's stomach twisted at the thought and the panic that flooded him temporarily drowned out the dull throb emanating from his back and arm. He sat up, body tense, senses on edge. When the murmur of voices reached his ears he acted without thinking, throwing his left hand towards the sword he'd laid beside his futon the night before. Common sense caught up with him and he realized it was only his master and Naosuke talking.

Kenshin took several deep breaths, trying to calm his body that was shaking as much from adrenaline now as anything else. Once his heart began beating at a normal pace again he got to his feet, still shivering. The room spun unexpectedly and he held a hand out as he almost lost his balance. His equilibrium took its time returning, and almost five minutes passed before he felt he could walk without falling over. Keeping one of the blankets wrapped tightly around him and clenching his muscles in a fruitless effort to still his shivering Kenshin shuffled into the main room where the voices were coming from. His master and Naosuke were sitting at the handai, a saucer in front of each of them and a saké jug on the floor nearby.

"Ohayou, shishou, Naosuke-sama." Kenshin greeted the two men, pleased that he had managed to speak without his teeth clacking together. He was met by stares. Naosuke looked as if he were about to utter a greeting of his own but then forgot what he wanted to say, and to Kenshin's amazement his shishou actually appeared−startled? He wasn't quite sure, as he'd never seen Hiko startled before.

"What is it?" Kenshin asked, a sense of unease coming over him as he glanced at their expressions. Hiko stood abruptly and covered the distance to Kenshin in two steps, reaching out and grabbing the blanket from his deshi's hands while laying a hand against his forehead. "Shishou, I'm cold!" Kenshin protested, wondering why even his shishou would be so cruel as to take his blanket away.

"Of course you're cold, idiot, your body's burning with fever!" Hiko snapped, throwing the blanket to the floor. Kenshin followed its path, eyes widening as he saw patches of discoloration on the dark cloth.

"Shishou, am I-" Rough hands on his good shoulder spun him around, and Kenshin fell silent, closing his eyes as the room started to move in a circle. He felt the gauze on his back being unwound, and even though the faint release of pressure hurt, the cool air that met his inflamed skin was a relief.

"Kuso!"

Kenshin's eyes popped open at his master's curse. He took in the used gauze lying around his feet and choked back a dry heave when the foul-smelling fluids that soaked the bandages reached his nose. If smell was anything to go by this couldn't be good. "Shishou, is something wrong?" Kenshin heard a soft clank and tried to turn his head and see what his master was doing. A heavy hand on the top of his head stopped him.

"Your back is infected." Hiko said tersely. "I'm putting more salve on it and then I'll rebandage it, so prepare yourself."

Kenshin did as he was told but his back felt as if it had been resting in an oven and the coolness of the ointment was as much a shock to it as physical contact. He knew he must have passed out because the next thing he remembered was opening his eyes.

Kenshin propped himself on an elbow, watching the room spin lazy circles in front of his eyes. He could still feel heat coming in waves from his back and somewhere far away he could hear his shishou muttering darkly. "Should have what, shishou?" He asked groggily, only catching bits and pieces of whatever his master was saying. Kenshin immediately found himself pulled to a sitting position and something was shoved into his hand.

"Drink. Now."

He obeyed without thought, only half aware that his shishou and Naosuke were talking.

"Hiko-san, I don't know what to say-" Naosuke's voice was the first to register, and Kenshin noticed that instead of his usual regal attire he was dressed in the plain gray clothes of a castle guard, a wide-brimmed hat conveniently shading his features.

"Then say nothing." Hiko bit out. He turned away from Kenshin and Naosuke, growling as he lifted a fisted hand and let it fall against the wall heavily. Kenshin watched curiously. He hadn't seen his master like this before and he couldn't quite comprehend his actions.

Hiko stood like that for a long moment, then turned his head and said calmly, "We should be going to Honmaru's." He nodded towards the handai, and Kenshin saw a plateful of onigiri resting alongside several pieces of grilled fish. "Kenshin, eat something before we leave."

He didn't have much of an appetite, but Kenshin nodded and moved to pick up one of the still steaming rice balls. "Shishou," He paused before putting the food in his mouth. "Are you going to _kill_ Jisaemon?" He knew well enough that his master believed that to be a swordsman meant to learn the art of killing. Still, the only time Kenshin had ever seen him act on that was when Hiko had killed the bandits attacking the slave caravan. And Kenshin hadn't really seen that. It had been dark, and even if his eyes hadn't been mostly covered by Sakura and Ksaumi's hands he would have hardly noticed any more deaths for the shock that had gripped him.

"Yes." Hiko's face was hard and unflinching when he answered.

The reply prompted a whole other set of questions to go spinning through his head and Kenshin wanted badly to ask them. Was his shishou killing Jisaemon because he had tried to force him into performing the assassination? Or did he feel bound by the principles of Hiten Mitsurugi to defend Naosuke? The possibility that this was pure revenge lay dormant at the back of Kenshin's mind. His shishou wouldn't possibly kill Jisaemon for _his_ sake. Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu did not condone killing for the sake of revenge.

"If Naosuke-san is killed, there is no doubt Japan will be thrown into a revolution that it is desperately teetering on the edge of now." Kenshin blinked as he heard the answer to his unspoken questions. It was uncanny, how his shishou seemed to read his mind like that. "Many more innocent people will die, and as the 13th master of Hiten Mitsurugi, I cannot allow that."

Kenshin nodded. As he'd thought, his master's motives were completely in line with their school's principles. Satisfied, he popped the rice ball into his mouth. Naosuke's serving girl was a fantastic cook. "Sh'shou," Kenshin mumbled around the delicious treat, "can I take the rest of these with me?"

"I'm not carrying them." Hiko responded. "Now let's go."

Naosuke led the way, Hiko striding along with a dark expression on his face, Kenshin trailing behind and trying not to drop the onigiri. Naosuke stopped outside a small house, knocking as he called and announced himself. The shoji slid open to reveal a burly man whose scar-lined face gave him the appearance of a seasoned fighter.

"Honmaru-kun, this is Hiko Seijuurou and his student, Kenshin-kun." Naosuke introduced them to the weathered man who had bowed low when he saw the tairou standing outside. "They're guests of mine. I need you to let Kenshin-kun stay here for the day. He'll stay out of your way. With all my recent undertakings, my house seems a dangerous place to be right now. "

Honmaru didn't bat an eye, merely nodded in understanding. "Pleased to meet both of you. You're lucky you came when you did, I'm getting ready to leave for a shift at the castle. Come in though." The house was significantly smaller than Naosuke's, with only a large front room and a partition that led to a tiny bedroom. In fact, it reminded Kenshin of Hiko's hut.

"You look like you've had a rough time," Honmaru commented to Kenshin, beckoning the trio to follow him behind the partition. "Kenshin-kun can stay in the room back here. There's a futon in the corner if you want to rest." Honmaru turned to Naosuke and Hiko. "I'll be gone until evening though."

"As long as he can stay here it's fine." Naosuke said. "We should be back before then ourselves."

Honmaru shrugged. "Make yourself comfortable then." He said to Kenshin before turning back to the tairou and bowing deeply. "Naosuke-sama, please excuse my rudeness but I must go." He came up for air and gave a shorter bow to Hiko. "A pleasure, Hiko-san."

Hiko deigned to nod as Honmaru left them, and when he heard the slide of the door as the man exited the house he rounded on his student. "Kenshin,"

Kenshin heard the gravity in his voice, and he blinked hard to make his vision center itself. The short walk to Honmaru's house had been embarrassingly draining. "Hai, shishou?"

"While we're gone, you're to stay inside. Sit, do not lie down. Don't close your eyes, even for a moment. Spread your senses out as much as you can without exhausting yourself but keep your ki to yourself. And _never_," Hiko's voice was fierce, "let go of your sword."

Kenshin swallowed. He didn't think he'd ever heard his shishou speak this seriously before. His ki was pulsing as Kenshin had only felt it a handful of times, one of those being when he had slain the bandits that would have killed Shinta. "Hai, shishou." Kenshin wasn't scared. Not of what might happen at least. He was scared of letting his master down again, of falling short of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu teachings.

"Good. " Hiko nodded.

"Kenshin-kun," Naosuke spoke, looking uncomfortable in his new decidedly un-tairou-esque garb, "Some of my men are on the premises, so pay no mind if you sense them. They're just going about their chores." Kenshin noticed the faint presence of the men even as Naosuke mentioned them, and he nodded his understanding. "You're a brave boy," Naosuke continued. "Don't let your master tell you otherwise." Kenshin caught the twinkle in his eye, knew he'd said that just to piss shishou off.

"Cheh, bravery and mere survival are two very different things," Hiko replied dismissively. Naosuke made a face as he spoke and Kenshin choked back a laugh.

"Did you want to say something, deshi?" The glare Hiko threw his way lacked true ire so Kenshin just smiled in return as he popped one of the rice balls into his mouth.

"Nothing, shishou." He threw a grin at Hiko, his onigiri-stuffed cheeks giving him a striking resemblance to a chipmunk.

Hiko spent a moment observing him, hiding his concern behind a glare. Kenshin had taken a turn for the worse overnight, there was no doubt about that, but the boy's spirit wasn't lacking. _He'll be fine_, Hiko thought confidently. After all, _he_ wasn't going to be gone long. He gave the battle with Jisaemon less than ten minutes −and that was only because Hiko wanted the scum to feel his death coming.

"The kago is here, Hiko-san," Naosuke was at the door, straw hat pulled low over his face. "I'm ready if you are."

Hiko pulled his eyes from where Kenshin was now sitting obediently, sword in hand. "Ah. Let's go."

Naosuke waited for Hiko to stride past him, then walked onto the porch himself and glanced to his left, letting his eyes rove wistfully over his house. He could see the smooth, polished floors in his mind's eye and imagined he could even catch the faint scent of cedar. He breathed deeply as he drug his gaze away, then paused and looked once more, whispering, "Ittekimasu." It was time to prevent a revolution.

* * *

The new spring growth silenced the footfalls traipsing through the forest at the castle's outskirts, making the muffled clink of mail the loudest sound. Birds and squirrels had gone silent as the interlopers passed through their domain, keeping a safe distance high in the trees and watching warily.

A score of men walked by purposefully, the bright cloth that decorated their armor leaving a gash of color that contrasted strikingly with the soft shades of green draping the forest. Despite the slightly shabby state of some of the men's clothes, their manner of dress advertised them as samurai; many of them wore helmets sporting demon-like horns affixed to the top, and all had daishou at their waist. Only one was dressed in a less garish fashion, wearing a pale grey uniform accompanied with a straw hat and wearing a single sword at his side.

The top of the tall pagoda that rested within the castle walls was visible between the trees now and the man in the lead stopped, holding a hand up. He took in the relative quiet of the castle grounds, saw the four guards standing resolutely at the southern gate. As he studied the scene, the rest of the men clustered behind him, talking softly among themselves. He let them talk for a minute, looking into the distance. A black blur was inching its way towards the castle.

"Samurai of Mito," Jisaemon's voice was soft but authoritative, and he turned to face the seventeen men behind him. "Take in the site before you. Here is where you will have your retribution." He turned to continue watching the black line. It had moved close enough so that it was now visibly a train of men. Jisaemon gave a ghost of a smile.

"I'm ready, Seijuurou."

* * *

Hiko sneezed. He'd better not be coming down with a damned cold. Wouldn't that just be the highlight of this miserable trip. Maybe he was just reacting to some strange smell in the kago. Hiko had decided ten steps into the trip that kago were not made for men like him. The quarters were cramped, and the cloth that kept out the sun also kept the transport warm and stuffy. The castle was still at least a half mile away and already Hiko was sweating. He would much rather be walking, giving his legs a good stretch. It would warm him up for what was to come. Hiko smirked as he imagined that Naosuke must be feeling just as miserable, if not more so. The tairou had looked uncomfortable enough just wearing a straw hat. That soft bureaucrat probably hadn't done much walking in recent years, if his girth was anything to go by.

Well, it would be over soon enough and Hiko would never have to suffer being carried around like a cripple again. He suppressed the urge to shove one of the kago's curtains aside and see where they were. It would hardly do if someone caught a glimpse of him. Hiko Seijuurou was quite obviously _not_ the tairou, even to an uninformed observer. Besides, he didn't need to see where they were. His ki would alert him to any imminent attack.

Hiko settled for resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. That baka deshi of his better be doing the same thing back at Honmaru's house. If Hiko found him asleep when he got back he was in for a verbal thrashing. He was in for a lot of things at this point so Hiko supposed he would have to carefully mete punishment out.

Glaring at a sudden jolt that shook the kago−one of the men must have tripped−Hiko shut all thoughts of his deshi from his mind. He needed to focus on Jisaemon now, and end this ridiculous situation.

_Just stay awake, baka_.

* * *

Kenshin jerked awake with a start, heart pounding. He could have sworn he'd heard his shishou's voice reprimanding him.

"Shimatta." Had he really fallen asleep? After he'd _promised_ shishou that he wouldn't. Determined not to let it happen again, he pressed a finger into his right shoulder, wincing at the pain but relieved that it dragged his body more firmly awake. Satisfied, he gripped his sword tighter and listened to the comforting lull of voices coming from outside. Deciding that was probably what had made him fall asleep in the first place, he turned his attention elsewhere. He really was alone in the house and there wasn't much he could do to occupy himself.

Kenshin sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. He wondered what his shishou and Naosuke were doing. Were they already fighting? Was Jisaemon already dead? It was maddening, not knowing what was going on. He shouldn't really be worrying about it though, his shishou had everything under control. Kenshin should concentrate on what he'd been told to do. And that was to sit here, hold his sword, and pay attention to his surroundings.

So he waited, and listened.

* * *

**Vocab: A handai is a Japanese table, but it has very short legs so people can sit on the floor and eat. And yes, you caught me, I threw in an occasional "hai" and "ah." I couldn't help it! **

**The stage is set! *drumroll* It's really a mediocre chapter but hey, I needed a setup for the showdown. Any guesses as to what's going to happen? **

**Thanks to all my reviewers! Your comments and input are much appreciated!**

**ZukoFlame**: There goes my quick update award. :) I thought the whole medicine scene was pretty funny myself but I guess I'm a little prejudiced. Glad you enjoyed it! As for Jisaemon's plan, well, he already knows Hiko's got it in for him, why not go for broke, right? On another note, I don't know if I mentioned this in my review, but your RHS update pretty much made my weekend.

**LavenderStorm**: Arigatou! *heh* Hiko's all about the hidden concern. Can't have people thinking he cares _too _much.

**Althea M**: Hiko might be a tough master but he's at least conscious of what Kenshin's capable of. *sigh* I think I'm just gonna never post the last chapter so the story doesn't end. How evil would that be? :)

**one-who-loves-sesshy**: I try to reply to everyone's review. And I do appreciate that you're enjoying the story but my updates are as quick as I can make them. Unfortunately, I have a job that steals priority of my time. Maybe I should just quit . . .

**t42n24t**: Maybe Jisaemon should get an award and a slap? And no doctors were harmed in the making of the last chapter. Pushed around maybe but no real harm. Glad you liked the Kenshin-gets-Hiko's-sword-back scene!


	22. Chapter 22

**Wow, fastest update ever, right? For me at least. My muse is firing, I owe Althea M. :) I think it'll be pretty smooth sailing from here on out. Relatively, at least. And for anyone who actually reads these author preludes, a heads up about this chapter. Some mature themes are hinted at here, although there is nothing explicit. Just thought I'd throw that out there for any interested parties. I have to say, I'm pretty happy with this chapter, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. Read on! **

* * *

Kenshin gave an unhappy sigh and looked longingly at the futon that lay neatly folded in a corner of the room. Fearful after the unintentional catnap he'd taken, he had decided against sitting on it, not trusting his body to stay awake when subjected to such comforts. Instead he'd propped himself stiffly against a wall. He was regretting his choice now. The wall didn't provide him any additional warmth and his back was aching from sitting so straight; even his legs were starting to get pins and needles. It felt as if he'd been sitting here for hours now. Surely his shishou would be coming back soon?

Trying to take his mind off his discomfort, Kenshin focused his attention on the sunlight that pierced the thin walls of the house. Judging from the angle of the beams it looked to be well past noon, so he'd been here for−he did a quick calculation−just under an hour now. Kenshin shifted, looked again at the futon, noticed how much more comfortable that padded mattress looked when compared to the flat, hard wood under him. Temptation tugged at him and he weighed the benefits. The futon would be so much softer, and warmer. Shishou would probably be back at any moment; he should be able to stay awake until then.

Successfully convincing himself, Kenshin stood his sword carefully against the wall, then tottered to the corner where the futon was. He didn't even try to unfold it, just slid it to the middle of the room as it was. It would offer more cushioning like that anyway.

Somewhere in between sitting vigilantly and arranging his new seat, Kenshin realized that the steady drone of voices he'd been half listening to outside had faded, and silence enveloped him now. Maybe Naosuke's men were all taking an afternoon nap. Kenshin frowned. That was ridiculous. The silence wasn't natural, it was stifling, and his kenki was tingling alarmingly. It was as if somebody−

Kenshin inhaled sharply as he heard what sounded like a cry of distress. It seemed to be coming from the general direction of Naosuke's house but Kenshin couldn't think of anyone who would be there. The cry certainly hadn't been that of a grown man, in fact the voice sounded distinctly feminine−

_Haruko-san_! The name came to Kenshin with a rush. The servant girl must still be in the house, cleaning. And Jisaemon had probably sent men to make sure Naosuke wasn't trying to avoid the meeting. And if the men found no one there but a lowly servant girl−Kenshin's hand clenched. He had to help.

_But you'd be disobeying shishou's order to stay here_. A cautionary voice in his head warned.

_He didn't know someone would be in danger_! Cried the other part of him, the boy who wanted with all his might to protect.

_Naosuke-san said some of his men were here. They can help her_.

_But I don't hear or sense anybody, maybe they've been killed_.

_Maybe they'll kill you too_.

_They'll kill Haruko-san if I do nothing_!

_What could you actually do right now_?

The internal war continued, with Kenshin unable to decide whether to follow his master's explicit instructions or to give in to what he felt was his responsibility and go to Haruko's aid. Maybe Haruko didn't need help but if she did could he live with himself, knowing that he'd been within walking distance but had done nothing?

_No. I can't_. And that decided it.

With as much speed as he could muster, Kenshin grabbed his sword and hastened to the door. He stopped dead as he slid the shoji open and looked towards Naosuke's. Several fallen bodies littered the ground, the glistening pools of red they lay in suggesting they weren't just unconscious. It was disturbing but Kenshin was more shaken by the fact that he had been unaware of what had happened. Granted, he was several hundred feet away but a good swordsman would have known something was wrong. Shishou would have known.

There were no more cries coming from Naosuke's and Kenshin wondered if Haruko was already dead as well. He started towards the house, swaying unsteadily, every step a chore. _Hold on, Haruko-san_. As Kenshin neared the house, he could hear faint scuffling noises, and then what sounded like a choked sob. Heartened, he clambered up the porch steps, trying to breathe as lightly as possible so as not to alert anyone to his presence. The front shoji was wide open and he could see no one in the main room. Down the hallway though he could hear noises, a low, snide-sounding voice murmuring steadily, broken every now and again by a higher pitched sob. They were in one of the bedrooms, then.

Kenshin stood at the entryway for a second, until the dizziness that the short walk had brought on faded, before sliding down the hallway. He made a concerted effort to keep his footsteps soft, going so far as to synchronize his breath with each step. Kenshin paused at the start of the hallway, stretching his senses out. There was a fighting ki in the room to his right. And also a much less powerful ki, one that trembled with fear.

"Haruko-san!" Without another thought Kenshin pulled his sword and rushed into the room, eyes blazing. It wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. His body chose that moment to betray him, the sudden dizziness making him lurch forward, sword clattering to the floor while he tried desperately to maintain his balance.

Kenshin winced at the sudden cacophony, winced more when he failed to catch himself, and felt his heart-rate climb through the roof when he saw he'd made a slight miscalculation. _Two_ men were in the room, and they looked over at him now, expressions startled. Haruko was on the floor behind them, face stained with tears.

_Shimatta, shimatta_. Kenshin gritted his teeth and snatched his sword from the floor before bringing a knee to his chest. His body shook as he pulled himself to his feet but he forced himself to meet the men's stares. One of the men's faces was horribly disfigured, angry burn marks streaking from his hairline to his neck. Kenshin started and his eyes widened with recognition.

"I remember you." He exclaimed.

The man laughed but there was no joy behind it. "Oh, this is perfect. I remember _you_." He spat the last word. "I guess this is payback time." He pulled his sword and flipped it forward. "We're just here to make sure tairou-sanyo doesn't skip out on his important duty today but it looks like we get two treats thrown in!" The burned man nudged his companion as they both laughed. "Izuichi, you can have this cutie here," He indicated Haruko, "I want a taste of the boy." The burned man leered at him then, licking his lips, and Kenshin eyed him warily, disconcerted. He didn't think they meant to kill him−not yet at least−but he had only a vague idea of what they were speaking of. Grimly, he raised his sword, holding it squarely in front of him with his left hand. The weapon felt unusually heavy.

"Are you scared, brat?" Izuichi laughed. "Look, Akira, see how he shakes."

"I'm not scared." Kenshin retorted, hating that his feverish body was still wracked with chills.

Akira moved towards him, his burned face twisting into a hideous grin. "Ah, well in that case, you should be. How much of a fight do you think he's gonna put up when I stick him, Izuichi?"

"I don't know, but I bet he'll squeal enough!" Izuichi slapped his knee as he guffawed.

"I bet he bleeds a lot too."

Kenshin was lost in the exchange but he noticed Haruko's eyes widening with horror the more the men talked. Finally she spoke, grabbing at Izuichi desperately.

"Please, just leave the boy alone! He's already hurt, what can he do to you?"

Izuichi backhanded her. "Stay out of this. Akira deserves some payback for what happened to his face."

The sight of Haruko struck to the floor with Izuichi looming over her filled Kenshin with rage. Memories came rushing back to him, a night when three girls had been butchered in front of his eyes while he watched silently, ignored until last because he posed no threat. And although he'd lifted an abandoned sword with a valiant effort, in the end he could do nothing to stop it.

_This time though, I'm stronger. This time I can protect someone!_

"Let Haruko-san go." His voice was much weaker than it should have been.

"I think you should worry more about yourself right now." Akira laughed.

"Let her go, or I'll make you." Kenshin said, gathering his kenki and projecting it towards the man as he'd felt his shishou do. Akira took a step back, although the movement seemed to be more unconscious than a result of Kenshin's attempt at intimidation. So much for the idea of throwing his ki.

"What, are you gonna do, boy?" Akira sneered. "Fight me? I like a fighter, it's more exciting. But I'd like to see _you_ try. You look like you're about dead."

"Just grab the runt, Akira." Izuichi yanked Haruko to her feet, pulling her against him as he spoke and running a hand down her back. "Does this bother you, boy? How about if I do this?" He grabbed Haruko's obi and yanked it off, causing the kimono to gape open. Haruko clutched at the edges with one hand, barely keeping the kimono closed.

"Please, don't put the boy through this." She pleaded.

Kenshin felt heat suffusing him, heat that wasn't from any fever. _This_ was why he was learning Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, to help people who were unable to protect themselves. "Stop, or I _will_ fight you!" He said, voice soft with fury.

"Cheh, why don't you just sit down and pass out." Izuichi grabbed Haruko's hands, yanking them from her kimono.

"I said **stop**!" Kenshin felt the strength of his ki that time, and he leapt at Akira with a scream of rage, sword swinging.

"Shit!" Akira floundered backwards, bowling over Izuichi who shouted and shoved him roughly. Haruko took the opportunity to rush to the far side of the room, pulling her kimono around her. Izuichi growled angrily.

"Can't you take care of this twit by yourself?" He snapped at Akira.

"I didn't think he'd actually be good." Akira muttered. The two of them stared at the enraged boy who now stood between them and Haruko.

"I guess we do need to fight the little bastard." Izuichi muttered. "Ah well, it'll just be that much more enjoyable afterwards." He blew a kiss towards Haruko. "Just stay there and wait for me, I'll be with you before you know it." He drew his sword carelessly and faced Kenshin but Akira lifted a hand to stop him.

"No. I want to fight him." Izuichi shrugged and stepped back, putting his sword away.

"Alright kid," Akira drew his own sword, "let's get this over with. Shall I attack first or you?"

Kenshin's mind was screaming at him, telling him to come up with a plan _fast_. He was at a horrible disadvantage, he realized. He was so overrun with fever he could hardly grip his sword, and it was a chore just to stand straight. Add to that that his right hand was useless. He could only hope that Akira was not a skilled swordsman. That being said, he needed Akira to attack first, so he could judge his strength. So he waited.

"Okay then, I guess I go first." Akira lunged towards Kenshin, sword going for his right side. Whether or not he was skilled, he certainly knew how to take advantage of his opponent. The move was slow though and Kenshin blocked it easily, pleased to find that his arm didn't crumble under the blow. Akira wasn't fast at all and his blows were nowhere near as strong as shishou's. Feeling more confident, Kenshin looked the man in the eyes.

"You think that was weak?" Akira asked with a smirk. Kenshin realized then that the man hadn't even been trying to deliver an incapacitating blow. He was just playing with him. "You don't need to answer, I can see it in your eyes. How about this, then?" The sword came for his head this time, a little faster than before. This time though the clash of swords left Kenshin's arm vibrating, and he slid back a step.

At this rate, the man was simply going to beat him back to the wall. He needed to counterattack. But how? One strike wouldn't' be enough and if he had to do more than that he was worried how his body would react. If he passed out he _would_ be dead.

"Time to think? I guess I'm moving too slow." Akira struck again, a vicious stab that would have gutted him if he hadn't slammed his sword on top of Akira's, knocking the tip to the floor. Just that effort left him winded and he had to fight to keep his sword in guard.

"Ah, the boy can still fight, congratulations! Well then, let's turn this up a notch." Akira's katana whirled and his previous amateur display disappeared. Kenshin found himself having to defend on all sides, desperately moving a sword that was feeling more and more like a lead weight the longer he wielded it. On a normal day, this would be nothing. On a normal day, he could have knocked this man to the ground. Kenshin was tired and dizzy and shivering though and his sword arm wouldn't work the way he wanted it to. He was barely holding off Akira's attacks, and the man's sword was consistently nicking him with each strike. Kenshin found his back against the wall all too soon, Akira's sword in front of his face. The soft _plip_ of blood falling to the floor and his own wheezing breath were loud in his ears. In the background, he could hear Haruko sobbing in earnest.

_Attack! You have to attack_! He could hear what shishou would be yelling at him.

_I can't! It hurts too much!_ Kenshin argued.

_Baka! Would you rather be in pain, or be dead_?

Kenshin's internal battle came to a grinding halt as Akira's sword shoved closer to his neck. He swallowed, concentrating on keeping the tip from his throat. He couldn't shove Akira's sword away with brute force; even if he had the strength, it would leave him wide open.

"Sa, that wasn't as fun as I'd expected." Akira sighed with mock disappointment. "I tell you what, I'm going to give you a free shot." He stepped back, sword falling to his side. Kenshin stared, not knowing what to think. "Well?" Akira grinned. "Go ahead, try it."

The man was mocking him. But he was giving Kenshin the chance he'd needed. Any mistakes here would be deadly. Kenshin's head was spinning but he knew what he needed to do. The man was severely underestimating him and he had to use that to his advantage. The red-head sheathed his sword and dropped into a battoujutsu stance. His legs spasmed at the position, and his bandaged arm made the balance different, but he managed to stay upright.

_This is going to really hurt_. He put on the most fearsome expression he could muster and stared into Akira's eyes. "Come."

Akira blinked, then laughed loudly. "Oh, kami, this is too much. I almost can't bring myself to beat your scrawny ass into the ground." He reached for his sword. "Almost. Okay boy, free shot's gone!" With a roar, Akira rushed forward. Kenshin stood unflinching, waiting for the right moment.

_Now_. His left hand whipped the sword out in a low battoujutsu, aiming for Akira's stomach.

"Good try, but far too slow!" Akira crowed, blade whipping down to block Kenshin's strike.

"That's 'cause I wanted you to block it." Kenshin growled. _Don't think, just do it_. Inhaling deeply Kenshin slid his right arm from its sling and in one smooth motion pulled his saiya from his hakama, swinging the sheath into Akira's neck with a strength born of desperation.

Akira fell to the floor, mouth open in disbelief. His last utterance was drowned out by Kenshin's agonized scream as the boy fell beside him, clutching at his wounded arm.

He'd done it. One down. He didn't know how he was going to fight Izuichi though.

Kenshin became aware of clapping, saw through vision blurred by spontaneous tears that Izuichi was grinning at him. Kenshin staggered to his feet, weaving unsteadily. Oh, his body did not like him for this. His stomach was threatening to rebel violently.

"I'm surprised you even managed to knock him out, kid!" Izuichi pulled his sword. "I guess it's my turn now. I know you can't handle both of us."

It was annoying, how these two men underestimated him, and he was tired of it. Yes, he could hardly stand and he could only use one hand but that didn't take away the years of training he'd had. _He_ was going to attack first this time, even though he knew it might prove to be foolhardy.

Kenshin sprang towards Izuichi, taking a gamble that he wouldn't be expecting that. From the surprised expression on his face, he wasn't. Kenshin swung upwards, going for the man's unguarded chin. Izuichi barely managed to block in time.

Thinking quick−he couldn't allow Izuichi time to think and retaliate or he'd find himself losing again−Kenshin ducked behind the man, aiming a blow for the small of his back. The strike connected, and Izuichi roared with pain, spinning around and swinging his sword wildly. Kenshin slid out of the way clumsily, already beginning his next attack, a powerful downwards swing to the collarbone. He was expecting Izuichi to block with his sword or move aside, and was therefore caught unawares when the man lifted a leg and slammed his foot into Kenshin's stomach.

Kenshin's vision broke into colorful shards and he felt himself flying backwards, crashing into one of the thin paper walls with enough force to break through it and continue skidding across the floor into the next room for several feet. Sheer stubbornness kept him awake, and he rolled gracelessly to his feet, refusing to give up. A sharp pain lanced through his abdomen at the movement and he hunched forward automatically, promptly throwing up. It left him drained and he stayed hunched for a moment, face puckering from the horrible blood-tinged taste that stung his mouth.

He thought he heard Haruko sobbing but he couldn't be sure because sounds had suddenly become muffled, matching the blackness that threatened to completely obscure his vision. Kenshin fought against it, blinking rapidly and gasping at the new burning sensation that accompanied every breath he took. Raising his head, he saw several Izuichi's walking slowly towards him. Agonizingly, he lifted his sword.

"I'm amazed you can still move, kid." Izuichi spun his sword slowly, the motion confusing Kenshin's already unbalanced body. As the distance between the two was closed Izuichi put his sword away, and putting on a burst of speed he reached out swiftly. Kenshin's reaction time had slowed pitifully. He had hardly begun to swing when Izuichi grabbed him by his gi and yanked his sword away as easily as if he were taking a toy from a child. He threw the sword to the ground and looked at Kenshin with a wounded expression. "Come on, you don't want to kill me, do you?" Izuichi caressed Kenshin's face, then slid his hand down to the boy's chest.

Kenshin wanted to struggle but he was still almost breathless from the kick, and the world was spinning alarmingly. Then Izuichi's hand fell away and his expression changed, his mocking smile replaced by a grimace of pain and suddenly Kenshin was falling to the ground. He was unconscious before he landed.

* * *

"Come, boy, open your eyes, please open your eyes."

He didn't recognize the pleading voice but he knew he had to wake up. There was something he had to do . . . Kenshin's eyes snapped open as he recalled what had happened just before he passed out. Heart pounding, he sat up. It was too much, and nausea overwhelmed him, causing him to retch dryly.

"Oh, thank goodness! I was praying you weren't dead." Haruko was kneeling next to him, her obi retied carelessly around her kimono. "Thank you, for fighting for me."

Kenshin nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. He saw Izuichi lying on the floor in front of him, saw the knife hilt sticking out from his neck. _Knife hilt_? Kenshin looked over to Akira, saw a bloody wound encircling his neck that he kenw his saiya hadn't made. He looked back to Haruko, surprise in his eyes.

"They would have killed us both after they'd had their way." She said softly, matter-of-factly. Haruko must have come behind Izuichi when he'd picked Kenshin up, then moved on to Akira after Kenshin had passed out.

"Thank you." Kenshin said hoarsely. Even those two words caused a line of fire to trace down his side.

"Iie." Haruko rested a hand on his arm. "You should lie down now, and I'll get you something to drink." Kenshin shook his head stubbornly.

"I can't. I told shishou I wouldn't. I have to stay awake. I have to go back to Honmaru-san's and wait for him."

"Surely he didn't mean-"

"He's probably almost back already." Kenshin said. "I don't want him to think I can't follow one simple order." At that moment he heard the sound of tramping feet coming from outside. "See, that's probably him now!" He knew it wasn't though even as he spoke. That wasn't his master's ki.

"I'll go see who it is." Haruko said quickly, standing.

Kenshin frowned as she left. It wasn't a fighting ki, so it couldn't be one of Jisaemon's men. Who was it then? His question was answered soon enough. Haruko came back into the room accompanied by a disheveled and panicked looking man who wore the gray uniform of the castle guards. He winced when he saw the two men lying on the floor, then looked at Kenshin. Kenshin's stomach twisted inexplicably and he wondered what the guard had come for.

"The tairou has been attacked," The man finally announced, and Kenshin heard Haruko gasp. "And Hiko Seijuurou has fallen."

The words hit him like a punch and Kenshin started visibly, staring at the man. "I don't believe you." They were the first words that came to mind.

The man shrugged. "Believe what you want, the truth is the truth." He reached for something at his side and Kenshin noticed the empty saiya there for the first time. "I brought this to show you." The man held out what was, without a doubt, the sheath for Hiko's nihontou.

Kenshin took it, shock lining his face. "But−how? Jisaemon's not better than shishou, I know it!"

The man shrugged again. "I didn't see what happened, all I know is that I was told to bring this to you in case you doubted me."

Kenshin's mind was in too much of a whirl to think anything through. All he knew was that he was holding his master's saiya, and Hiko Seijuurou would never let anyone take a part of his sword from him. Kenshin swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to his feet. He didn't want to see his master defeated−the word sounded horribly wrong in his head−but he needed to, if only to prove this man wrong.

"I want to see." He said heavily.

The guard nodded and Kenshin followed him slowly, clutching Hiko's saiya in his hand. Pain radiated through him with every step but he willfully ignored it. It didn't matter. Head bowed, he walked outside and followed the guard down the well-trodden path towards Edo castle.

Behind him, on the bloodstained floorboards he'd just left, his sword lay forgotten.

* * *

**Whew. No breaks for Kenshin. He's like . . . the Energizer bunny or something. Utter respite is in the near future though! Next chapter: What the hell's going on with Hiko and Naosuke? **

**Random vocab - ****If you're unfamiliar with the term "saiya," it simply means "sheath." I just like how saiya sounds. As for nihontou: it's stated in the manga that Hiko's sword is a nihontou (Japanese sword) so I thought I would refer to it as that at least once. Just for kicks. Ah, and I threw in a "shimatta" didn't I? This is really a mild expletive (although my Japanese teacher at school freaked out when someone used it for class presentation), which is why I have Kenshin use it. I think it's better than writing "dang it" or such.**

**Pay attention guys, this is important! Has anyone heard about the live-action RK movie that's in the works? I AM STOKED! I'm just curious what, if anything, any of you has heard. Go watch Kamen Rider Den-O (incredibly cheesy power-ranger style series) if you wanna see the dude they're casting as Kenshin.**

**Love to the reviewers! Kansha suru! (Or if you're a fan of reading Japanese, 感謝する！)**

**ZukoFlame: **He stayed awake! I guess he had a little help with the defending though. But all things considered, it was probably necessary. Oh, and your action scenes = not fail. I'm on the edge of my seat now!

**Althea M: **Kenshin just attracts misery. He can't avoid it. You know, originally I had written in what Hiko "should have" done but then I decided to leave it to the reader's imagination. So much more fun that way. Okay, no more teasing about not finishing. That is cruel.

**one-who-loves-sessy**: I was just kidding about the not finishing, no worries. As for mushy scenes . . . I'm not a fan of them unless the characters' personalities call for it and it is legitimate. I do think I pushed the envelope a little on the last chapter, but felt it wasn't too overt on Hiko's part and also justified. You can keep me in line though. :)

**t42n24t**: Tension is certainly thick. And Hiko is all set for some serious ass-kicking. Kenshin . . . he's just trying to make it through the day.

**Szahara again**: Ah, I just realized I was not very clear in writing that scene. It's actually not Jisaemon who is dressed as a guard (I'm sure you figured that out reading this chapter), just one of his henchmen. And the kago guy is just clumsy. Probably having a hard time with Hiko's weight. I mean, Hiko's pushing 200 pounds and he's got an extra 83 extra from that cloak. Whew. *Sidenote*: Wow, _three _times? *beams*


	23. Chapter 23

**Yeesh. Well, I was out of town all last week. And the two weeks prior to that I had no inclination to write, due to a myriad of life problems that decided to bombard me all at once. So there are the excuses. On a side note, this chapter was hell, and has had ample rewrites. It's not up to par, but in order to avoid shooting my blood pressure any further into space, I have decided to leave it as is. *sigh* Okay, pity party over. **

**And now . . . how on earth did Hiko lose his saiya? Despite the patches of roughness, I hope this chapter's enjoyable! **

* * *

Fifteen minutes. That was how long Hiko had been imprisoned by the kago, unable to stretch his legs, unable to feel the gentle spring breeze he could hear whispering against the cloth...

The breeze smelled like rain, he noted. And he thought he could hear thunder several miles in the distance, its threatening growl reminding him that yes, this day _could_ get worse.

Exhaling heavily, Hiko let his hand drift to the hilt of his sword, tapping his fingers against the unadorned wood absently. The curtained sides of the kago rippled softly, almost as if the mild weather outside was taunting him, and Hiko glared in a fleeting moment of pettiness. He should be enjoying this day back on his mountain, possibly toasting the beauty of spring with a saucer of sake and hounding Kenshin on his kata.

The kago swayed gently as its bearers changed direction, and Hiko sighed. It was only March. He wouldn't miss viewing the cherry blossoms at least.

Saké and cherry blossoms left Hiko's mind as quickly as if blown by a strong spring gale when the slow swirl of ki that bordered the kago suddenly multiplied. That, in addition to the increase in general hubbub, alerted Hiko to the fact that they must be approaching the castle. He focused his attention expectantly, searching for a glimmer of anger in the sea of relative calm. Even if Jisaemon could hide his ki, it was unlikely that any men he might come with would have such skill.

Hiko's impatience meter was quickly reaching capacity as Naosuke's retinue continued unimpeded and still he sensed no ki that bespoke hostility; sensed _nothing_ that suggested an attack. He was positive Jisaemon would be here though. Possibly he was just out of range of Hiko's senses but that couldn't last for long. Naosuke had said they were entering by the sakuradamon, the southern gate. Jisaemon wouldn't wait for them to get through. He would make his move before Naosuke could be safely ensconced behind the walls of Edo castle.

The kago's moderate pace continued unchecked, and for a brief second Hiko harbored the thought that he had missed his guess. But in all honesty, the likelihood of that was even lower than the chance that Jisaemon wouldn't attack, so Hiko banished that worm of doubt without hesitation.

Loud voices floated back to him from the front of the escort now, and Hiko could just make out the announcement that they were coming up on the sakuradamon. Still, he sensed nothing. _Is he waiting for something_? _A sign_?

And then, as if responding to his unvoiced question, a wave of ki hit him. _This_ was fighting ki. Hiko sat straight in anticipation, the hand that had been light on his sword hilt only seconds before now gripping it firmly as he stretched his senses to the utmost. Jisaemon hadn't elected to do this alone. He had managed to gather a small cadre of men, all samurai judging by their honed fighting ki. Sixteen−no, seventeen of them.

It was another thirty seconds before Naosuke's guards noticed anything amiss, but when they did, the loud shouts that had heralded arrival turned frantic. Hiko could hear the sound of swords being drawn and several courageous yells of _protect tairou-sama!_ He let his senses pass over the horde of agitated ki, searching for one in particular. A smile touched his lips and his eyes gleamed sharply when he found it. Ah . . . being correct was so gratifying. He counted the seconds as the ki began moving his way, drawing inevitably closer.

Four.

Three.

Two.

"Revere the Emperor and expel the barbarians!" The cry rang through his ears and Hiko's hand shot out just as one curtain of the kago lifted. His fingers curled around flesh, choking the end of the cry off, and he squeezed, unashamedly enjoying the feel.

"There's only one barbarian I plan on expelling today," Hiko ripped the curtain aside with his free hand and emerged from the kago. With his cape billowing behind him he looked nothing so much like a dragon emerging from its cave, the power that radiated from him carefully constrained.

Letting his ki crash around him like a waterfall, Hiko stared into the startled black eyes now directly in front of him, keeping his hand clenched tightly around his victim's throat.

"I've been looking forward to seeing you again, Jisaemon." He kept his voice even, free of the venom that was coursing through him.

Jisaemon's face was turning red but he refused to suffer the humiliation of clawing at his throat, keeping his hands clenched at his side instead. "Where's−Naosuke?" He managed to choke dryly.

"Oh, I'm not sure exactly," Hiko drawled. "But I didn't come here to talk about Naosuke-san."

"I've−sent someone−to his house." Jisaemon gasped, face turning purple. "If he's there−he's dead."

Hiko felt a jolt run through him. So Jisaemon had covered all his bases and sent someone to Naosuke's. A good thing he'd thought to move Kenshin elsewhere.

Hiko was sure his face showed nothing of the momentary surprise he felt but somehow Jisaemon must have thought him distracted because he was going for his sword. Hiko wasn't concerned: he could have struck the man down even if he managed to bring his sword to bear. But he needed to let off some steam, and choking the life out of Jisaemon wasn't near enough punishment for what he put Kenshin through. Hiko threw Jisaemon backwards, hard, and the samurai crashed to the ground. He was smiling though.

"I saw that, Seijuurou." He said hoarsely, slowly climbing to his feet and massaging his throat. "I notice Ken-chan isn't here. Maybe you thought to hide him away somewhere close?"

"_Kenshin_ should have nothing to do with any of this." Hiko growled, thoroughly piqued at the casual manner of familiarity Jisaemon assumed with Kenshin's name. "And if you want your death not to last a lifetime you'd do best not to think of him again."

"Trust me Seijuurou, I have nothing against you or your student." Jisaemon paused. "Well, I didn't at least. Even now though it wouldn't matter to me except that−" he shrugged. "Well, you stand between me and my goal."

"You _put_ me between your goal, Jisaemon." Hiko snarled. "After you began your foolish plan I was left with little choice. Did you really think you'd be able to blackmail the greatest swordsmaster of this age?"

"Humble as ever, Seijuurou," Jisaemon snorted. "And yes. Yes, I did. It's not like I was going to kill your student. I only needed you to think that."

"Congratulations, you did a very convincing job." Hiko's hand tightened on his sword. "You had an innocent boy tortured, Jisaemon. Knowingly. Maybe you weren't going to kill him but don't pretend that you didn't think the shougunate would."

"Don't speak like a hypocrite, Seijuurou." Jisaemon stabbed a finger at him. "I've seen the way you act with that pupil of yours, how you treat him. You think your indifferent attitude isn't torture? You're making him a psychological mess, he's only going to fear and despise you."

Hiko's face was dangerously blank. "Don't try to lecture me, you shameless coward. You have no idea what you're talking about."

Jisaemon laughed shortly. "I'm a shameless coward now? And what are you? An apathetic hypocrite, maybe. Your indifference disgusts me. A swordsman is supposed to protect the weak and the innocent, yet you as good as condemn them by refusing to fight against the atrocities of the shougunate! You have an obligation to destroy these oppressors, Seijuurou!"

Being lectured on the concepts of his own school wasn't something that sat well with Hiko. "Clearly you understand nothing of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, and my words seem to be having little effect." Hiko pulled his sword from its sheath, raising it slowly. He was going to enjoy this. Every last second. "Let me show you instead, exactly how I protect those who need it." He let his ki explode outwards in all its fiery wrath, and was pleased to see a glimmer of fear in Jisaemon's eyes.

"Before we begin though, think of this, Jisaemon−you say a swordsman should protect the innocent," Hiko swung his blade towards the ground sharply, sending a blast of air in Jisaemon's direction, "yet you stole my student from me, no doubt mistreated him on the way to Edo, then lied to have him convicted by the shougunate. Who's the hypocrite now?"

"As I said before, we meant no real harm." Jisaemon ground out. "We would have returned him to you."

Hiko's eyes flashed. "Fool! Even if you aren't lying through your teeth that's not the point! But I suppose it was too much to expect you to admit you were wrong."

Both men were prepared to draw their swords, but before they could cross blades their exchange was rudely interrupted by a chorus of shouts coming from behind the kago, where the clash of Mito samurai and castle guards had turned into something of a brawl.

"We found him!"

"Naosuke-sama!"

"Kill the barbarian lover!"

Hiko saw Jisaemon's eyes flick towards the commotion, and he smiled, eyes narrowing. "You have to get through me."

Jisaemon brought his gaze back to Hiko, and almost reverently he raised his sword. "So be it. I'm not afraid to bring justice to this country."

"As you're so aptly demonstrating, justice and the means people use to achieve it frequently conflict." Hiko countered as he readied himself for an attack. Normally he would have given fair warning to his opponent before he lit into them but not today. Not for this man.

Hiko bridged the distance between him and Jisaemon in a blink; anyone watching would only have felt a rush of air as a white blur disappeared in front of their eyes. _I'll wound his sword arm first. Let him fight like that_. Hiko was mildly surprised by the vehemence that coursed through him. Certainly he was used to the rush of battle, the feeling that he was doing something worthwhile that accompanied it. Then he fought with a hardened detachment, doing what needed to be done for the sake of others.

But this−there was no detachment here, only raw rage that threatened to take over for nobody's sake but his own. No point in denying it to himself: it was well-justified and would serve a greater purpose, but for Hiko this was revenge, pure and simple.

"Ryu sou sen!" Hiko hadn't seen Jisaemon fight in years but he knew immediately that the man hadn't lost any of his skill. Despite the speed of the attack, Jisaemon blocked the first blow solidly, concentration and fear mingled on his face. Hiko knew he wouldn't be able to match the Hiten Mitsurugi speed for long though, and indeed the next two hits in the multi-strike attack drew blood.

Jisaemon stumbled back, the sword that he now held in his left hand automatically going to guard. A rivulet of blood dripped down his arm, staining his tsuba. Hiko knew he had judged the strength of his hits well; the cut on Jisaemon's arm was only deep enough to make wielding a sword incredibly painful but not impossible.

Hiko slashed his sword to the side, throwing droplets of blood to the wind. "Example one," He rested his sword on his shoulder cockily, "intimidate the opponent." Hiko's eyes flicked purposefully towards the Mito samurai. "It gives any subordinates a chance to surrender."

"Not a chance." Jisaemon hissed.

"Ah, well in your case that option has been revoked. So let's move on." Hiko found it enormously gratifying, finally fighting the man who had held his student's life over his head. "Where were we? Example two," He was mentally preparing for dou ryu sen, something that would really put some bruises on Jisaemon, when he caught a spike in Naosuke's ki. He hadn't paid much attention to the man since they'd started out−he was surrounded by guards after all−but this seemed urgent. Hiko shot a glance behind him to see that one of Jisaemon's samurai had managed to hack his way past the guards to stand directly in front of Naosuke. The closest aid was five feet away and scrambling to raise himself from the ground, and seeing that the samurai already had his sword in the air, that wasn't close enough.

There was no time−even using his godlike speed he would get there a shade too late. Inwardly cursing his luck to be fighting with such amateurs, Hiko did the only thing he could. He grabbed his saiya and with all his strength sent it hurtling like a large arrow towards the samurai.

The samurai's blade was an inch from Naosuke's head when Hiko's saiya slammed into it, shoving the sword to the side where it narrowly missed taking Naosuke's arm off. The man who had been pulling himself off the ground was at the tairou's side now, holding the samurai off. Ah well, Hiko wouldn't be able to do a proper battoujutsu but it wasn't really necessary.

As he turned around Hiko felt a burst of energy, and he was moving sideways even as he saw Jisaemon leap at him, sword raised high for what would have been a blow that sliced him in two. As Jisaemon brought his weapon down Hiko spun sharply, deftly flipping his blade just before he slammed his sword into Jisaemon's back. Normally, it would have been a deadly blow. Instead, the blunt edge merely cracked his ribs, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

Hiko shouldered his sword again, looking with distaste at the man who lay gasping on the ground at his feet. "It wasn't what I had planned but I suppose it worked well enough for example two. Ryu kan sen." Jisaemon had staggered to his feet but he was still wheezing for breath, his lips twisted in a strange grimace, so Hiko took the opportunity to look where his saiya had fallen. It should be−ah, there it was. Hiko frowned. One of the castle guards was putting it at his side, glancing around furtively as he did so.

What nerve. Probably thought he was going to sell it for a good price after this. Hiko would disabuse him of that notion. He'd hardly stepped in that direction though when Jisaemon sprang in front of him, his breath back but now looking as if every movement pained him.

"You're fighting me, Seijuurou."

Hiko sighed inwardly. Well, he could track down his saiya afterwards. No doubt the man holding it would be dead before the fight was over.

Hiko assessed the damage Jisaemon had taken. "Tell your men to give up, Jisaemon. They've already lost half their number and you aren't going to fare any better than them. Worse, actually."

"Give up?" Jisaemon gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "They're fighting for their livelihood, Seijuurou, and if they can't win that back, what good is living anyway? They either succeed here, or die here. Those are their options."

"As you say. I won't argue with you." Hiko brought his sword down from his shoulder, looking critically at his opponent. Jisaemon locked eyes with him.

"I was clumsy before. I'd forgotten how good you were. But I'm getting serious now, so don't think you can get away with such light play."

"That's where you and I differ, Jisaemon," Hiko's eyes flashed, and the dust around him spiraled into the air. "Whether or not I use all my strength, I have always fought seriously."

Jisaemon's body took on a faint orange glow. "Good. Then let's get started." They stared at each other for a long moment, waiting for a faint movement, an opening, anything that might show a weakness.

Jisaemon's sword-arm made a miniscule shift and Hiko broke the stalemate. "Dou ryu sen!" Sparks flew as his katana grated against pebble and rock. A cloud of dust rose and billowed outwards, encompassing the entire battlefield. Frenzied shouts were soon replaced by hacking coughs as lungs filled with the spray of dust that Hiko's attack had produced. Hiko used his mantle to shield his nose and mouth from the voluminous cloud, watching with sharp eyes as Jisaemon spun his sword rapidly in an attempt to divert the attack.

_Cheh. Impossible._ Hiko's scornful thought rang true; Jisaemon managed to keep the dust cloud from immediately enveloping him but he was unable to escape the blast of air from the dou ryu sen. He was flung him backwards, and thin lines of red appeared on his cheeks as he was pummeled by dirt and rock shrapnel. The attack had surely taken a toll on him but Jisaemon regained his balance quickly. The orange glow was gone.

Hiko didn't give him a chance to recover. Sword already pulled back for a strike, he sped towards Jisaemon. Halfway there, he planted a foot into the ground, pushing off and soaring into the air with the grace of a bird. "Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, ryu tsui sen!" Hiko could see Jisaemon squinting as he glanced upwards, the sun blinding him to Hiko's position. Ryu tsui sen was particularly effective in mid-day.

The crushing force behind the blow hammered Jisaemon to the ground, even though he managed to bring his sword up in time to block it. Hiko let his blade slide down Jisaemon's, turning to deliver a strike to the man's now unprotected left side. He expected Jisaemon to dodge, or attempt a block. He wasn't expecting him to leap skywards and jump over his head.

It was a refreshing change of pace at least, if somewhat straightforward. Hiko spun with his sword already raised to counter whatever Jisaemon was coming at him with, realizing as he did so that Jisaemon wasn't actually attacking him. In fact, he was running away . . .

Hiko's sharp eyes flicked towards the sakuradamon. Several of the guards had Naosuke sandwiched between them and were bodily shoving their way to the southern gate as their comrades held off the samurai. Jisaemon was heading straight for the huddle.

It wasn't much of a challenge and Hiko smiled. Nobody could outrun a Hiten Mitsurugi master. He had placed himself between Jisaemon and Naosuke a full second before Jisaemon came within striking distance.

"As I said before, you'll have to get by me." Hiko's sword darted forward, catching Jisaemon square in the chest. Jisaemon managed to jump back before the thrust ran him through, escaping with a red stain spreading across his gi. Hiko allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before stepping towards his adversary, who was now breathing heavily and staring down at his chest, which was bleeding steadily. "You're severely injured and can hardly fight." Hiko assessed unemotionally. "It's time to end this." To his surprise, Jisaemon looked up and a smile curled his lips.

"Yes. It's time to end this."

Hiko frowned at him and lifted his sword for a blow that would leave Jisaemon begging for death. Something about this wasn't right; Jisaemon shouldn't look so overjoyed that he was dying while Naosuke stood very much alive. That was when Hiko caught the distraught flicker of ki, overlaid with a deep pain but also determination. Conflicting feelings surged through him: disbelief, confusion, relief, anger; all vied for supremacy. It was emotional overload for the normally stoic swordmaster and he whirled on Jisaemon, face livid, already moving to lop the man's head off with his sword.

"I wouldn't." The softly spoken words stayed Hiko's hand more effectively than any opposing force, and his sword stopped dead only millimeters from Jisaemon's neck just as a child's scream soared above the sounds of battle. Hiko's blood boiled at the sound. He knew that voice as well as his own. Already dreading what he was going to see, he turned his head slowly, keeping the tip of his sword at Jisaemon's throat.

_Of course_, Hiko thought with bitter irrelevance. One of Naosuke's guards stood at the edge of the road that led to the sakuradamon. It wasn't the guard so much that concerned him; he was bothered more by the small red-headed figure held tight in the guard's grasp. Kenshin's right arm was twisted behind him and his ghostly white face was wracked with pain, but his eyes shone with relief as he stared at Hiko. Hiko felt his stomach twist and he let his sword arm fall limply at his side. Already he knew it was going to come down to a choice, and one frustrated word echoed in his head, directed at anyone who could answer.

_Why_?

* * *

**Well, that explains Hiko's missing saiya! I hope the fight scenes were clear; please let me know if not. CC always appreciated. **

**Thank you reviewers, you make my day when I see that little alert in my inbox! **

**HitokiriBattousai214:** Welcome aboard! Glad you're enjoying it. Hiko harshness duly noted, I will keep an eye on that. If there are any particular places that jump/ed out at you, feel free to bring them to my attention.

**Kaida Ukitake**: Well thanks! Sorry the wait was so long this time around.

**one-who-loves-sesshy**: Well, everything's pretty much laid out now, just needs to be played out! Yeah, Kenshin will probably get it for leaving his sword.

**Althea M**: Hiko, dead? Never! :) I hope the fight scenes in this chapter were as clear as the previous one, but I have my doubts . . .

**Szahara again**: Wow . . . 8 times . . . I need to read Les Mis though, I haven't yet! Heh, it would definitely be uncharacteristic of Hiko to mess up. I don't think he could live with himself. Yay, "awesome action scene"! Thanks for that. And yes, I would much prefer if Jinchuu got animated (*cough* not as an under-done OAV) but hey, I'll take whatever gets tossed my way. I'm really gonna cry if they make a movie and ruin it though.

**t42n24t**: Thanks for bringing your friend aboard! Wahaha, Kenshin should just play dead when Hiko asks him about his sword. In Kenshin's defense though, he is a little out of it right now. Maybe Hiko will cut him some slack? ;)


	24. Chapter 24

**Ah well, I will resign myself to the fact that updates probably won't be weekly. Sorry, too much going on. Be forewarned, Kenshin has a few more winces ahead. But you probably already knew that. ;) Now let's get on to the final showdown!**

* * *

_Why_? The word echoed deafeningly in Hiko's mind, challenging him to try and make sense of the scene before him. Why was Kenshin here with a castle guard who was obviously working for Jisaemon? Dressed as he was, the "guard" would have tried to come across as a friend, not an enemy; and Kenshin knew enough not to take a man who said he was a friend at face value. He should have stayed quiet, stayed far enough away that this man would pose no threat. _Why_ hadn't he done that? Was he even more of an idiot than Hiko gave him credit for?

Hiko's eyes fell to the sword at the guard's side then, and a sickening feeling washed over him. Next to the sword was an empty saiya, one that looked remarkably familiar. "No." Hiko breathed, his anger finding a new outlet.

"Yes." Jisaemon interpreted his outburst incorrectly. "I had a backup plan, Seijuurou. If you were to show up here, I had someone disguised as a castle guard ready to go find your student who surely wouldn't be far. Incidentally, thank you for making his job easier. I doubt your bright little deshi would have been quite as convinced with our story had he not had your saiya to look at." Oh, Jisaemon was confident now, his triumphant smile making new paths for the blood that ran freely down his face.

"You bastard." Hiko ground out, fighting the urge to smash Jisaemon's nose into his brain as comprehension came with blinding clarity. Kenshin would have seen the saiya and automatically drawn the conclusion that something had happened to Hiko. Faced with that, he wouldn't have thought to question whether the guard was in disguise or not. _You __**baka**__!_ Hiko thought scathingly, and he wasn't sure if the epithet was directed at himself or Kenshin. _Even if something __**had**__ happened to me you should have run away, not willingly thrown yourself into their hands!_

"You're good at names, Seijuurou." Jisaemon commented. "I have a task for you: start thinking of what you'll call your student after he dies." He looked to the man holding Kenshin and caught his eye, giving a slight nod. Hiko watched as the man pulled the empty saiya from his waist, mouth turning up in a cruel smile. The next instant he thrust one end of the sheath into Kenshin's solar plexus. Kenshin doubled over, and Hiko heard the air exploding from him even at that distance. The guard didn't stop there. He turned the saiya lengthwise and placed a hand at either end of it, then reached over Kenshin and hooked the saiya under his chin, hauling him off the ground. Hiko saw the boy's eyes widen with fright as he tried to take a breath, heard the strangled noises as the pallor of his face changed rapidly from white to red.

It was only done to rile him, not kill Kenshin; he knew that. The knowledge didn't make him any less furious. "What the hell do you want, Jisaemon?" Hiko's sword arm trembled as his muscles clenched more than he'd ever imagined they could.

"I want you to step away from this murdering bastard." Jisaemon said flatly, looking at Naosuke as he spoke. There was an audible intake of breath from Naosuke.

"I gave my word to protect him." Hiko matched Jisaemon's tone, watching the castle guard from the corner of his eye. He still held the saiya under Kenshin's chin but he had lowered him enough so that his feet touched the ground.

Jisaemon nodded at Hiko's response. "Ah. I see. And your student? Did you give your word to protect him as well?"

Hiko stayed silent. He hadn't, actually. To teach him, yes. But not to protect him.

But did he really need to voice that? Should it not be a given that he would protect his own student, if it came down to it?

Perhaps it wasn't a given.

_He needs to learn how to protect himself. He __**wants**__ to learn how to protect himself_.

But the boy was still only an apprentice, after all. And a foolish one at that.

_So you should step in to save him from his own mistakes_?

That seemed just as foolish. If he didn't learn how to deal with his mistakes now, it would only be a harder lesson to learn in the future.

_But how much of the mistake is truly his_?

Did it matter? Sometimes people paid for mistakes that weren't their own. He should know that.

_Does that mean you should sit by and let him−die?_

He couldn't. And yet, he had to. He had promised to protect Naosuke, given his word as a Hiten Mitsurugi master. If he went to Kenshin, Naosuke was dead and Hiko would have effectively ignored all tenets of his school for the sake of one life. But so many people had already died for that life. He couldn't imagine that he was meant to save it three years ago, only to have to surrender it now.

_Kenshin's strong. He can find a way out of this_.

Could he? He was on the verge of unconsciousness already and Hiko could see fresh wounds, evidence he'd already been in a fight. He was already past his limits.

_Kami, what do I do_?

All this flashed through Hiko's head in a matter of seconds, and although he was paying more attention to what was going on in his peripheral, he kept his eyes on Jisaemon the entire time, revealing nothing of his internal battle. Just behind him, he could hear Naosuke's breath, heavy with fear. He could feel the tense ki of the castle guards−only two, hardly enough to deal with the cluster of five samurai who had formed a half circle around Hiko. Certainly not enough to deal with Jisaemon.

Jisaemon was watching Hiko carefully. "You're actually thinking of staying true to your word." He said slowly, and he sounded surprised. "I didn't expect that. Really, I didn't." He stared at Hiko a moment longer, face calculating, then shrugged and looked away. "Well, no matter. I guess we don't need the boy anymore." He waved a hand towards the man holding Kenshin. "Kill him!"

And just like that, his time was up. He couldn't waver between his own principles and Hiten Mitsurugi's, he had to make a decision _now_.

Hiko moved then, sweeping his sword in a wide arc and toppling the five samurai who stood in front of him. "Get through the gate!" He ordered sharply, words directed at Naosuke. He sensed more than saw the frantic nod, felt the renewed spirit of Naosuke's defenders. Hiko's eyes were several hundred meters away though. The false guard still had Kenshin in a choke hold, and Kenshin's eyes−Hiko did a double take. His deshi was staring directly at him, a pained semblance of a smile on his face. But those eyes−

Kenshin reached behind him then, and before the guard knew what was happening, Kenshin had grabbed his sword, pulling it from its sheath and swinging it backwards at the man's neck, perhaps a bit slower than usual but with unerring precision. With a startled cry the guard dropped the saiya he'd been using to hold Kenshin and sprang back, avoiding the strike by a hair's breadth. Kenshin's feet landed heavily on the ground but somehow he managed to keep his balance. He spun immediately, sword swinging at the shaken guard behind him. The man raised Hiko's saiya, and his arms shook when Kenshin connected.

Hiko could feel Kenshin's ki pulsing out like waves in a storm. All his pent up anger and hurt from the past week was being focused into this moment, serving as fuel for his spent body. It would take its toll later but for now Hiko took advantage of his deshi's resilience.

Jisaemon seemed to have temporarily forgotten Hiko as he watched Kenshin's unexpected retaliation with a stunned expression. "You should learn where to focus your attention in battle." Hiko snarled, and in one smooth motion his sword swept out, raking a gash across Jisaemon's midsection before the man could spring away completely.

Jisaemon grimaced, bringing a hand to his stomach and pressing it against the long wound. The movement elicited a cough. His last minute scramble backwards had saved him from being completely disemboweled but as he coughed blood dribbled from his already paling lips. Still, Jisaemon lifted his sword, hands shaking from the sudden loss of blood. "I know just where to focus my attention, Seijuurou." He spat, and then he brought his sword over his shoulder in a one-handed grip.

Clarification came a shade too late, and by the time Hiko realized what he was doing Jisaemon had launched his sword at Kenshin who still stood locked in a clash with the guard.

"Kenshin!"

Shoving his opponent back with a mighty effort, Kenshin turned at Hiko's roar of warning. His eyes widened when he saw the sword flying towards his head, and he ducked to the side to avoid it. Balance seemed to evade him though and what was intended as an evasive maneuver turned into a fall. His sword hand opened involuntarily as he hit the ground, and Kenshin's horrified expression showed he understood all too well that he was wide open. The guard behind him brought his sword to bear, slicing without hesitation at the easy target.

_It will __**not**__ end like this_. Hiko moved faster than he ever had, willing himself to get there soon enough. It was going to be close. He ended up throwing himself forward the last meter, lashing out with his foot to kick Kenshin out of harm's way even as he raised his sword to block the guard's swing. The man obviously hadn't expected to see Hiko in front of him, and as the swords clanged deafeningly his arms wavered. Hiko shoved upwards, batting the other's blade away with ease before thrusting his sword deep into the guard's midsection.

There was a scream then but it didn't come from the man Hiko had just impaled. As the light faded from the guard's eyes and his body slumped heavily, Hiko yanked his sword free and whirled, searching for the source of the scream. At first he couldn't quite make out what he saw. There was a huddle of men in front of the sakuradamon, both samurai and guards, although it appeared they were no longer fighting. Everyone seemed to be clustered around Jisaemon, who was kneeling on the ground.

Surely no one had been able to deliver a fatal blow, Hiko thought with a frown. Then Jisaemon stood, clutching the wound Hiko had given him with one hand and raising the other hand in the air.

A hand that clenched the severed head of Ii Naosuke, tairou of Japan.

A joyful shout burst from the samurai who were still alive, and swords were waved in the air. Hiko watched with a feeling of detachment.

_I . . . failed_? He turned the word over in his head. Strangely, it didn't affect him as he thought it would. Possibly because he didn't feel as if he'd failed. Why was that? By all accounts he should be furious, chastising himself for not protecting the life he'd been entrusted with. He wasn't so much angry as regretful though. Hiko's mind drifted back to his previous thought, and realization began to grab him. _The life I've been entrusted with . . ._ He shot a glance at his inert deshi, noting the slow but definite movements that said he was still breathing; still alive.

No. He hadn't completely failed.

Hiko couldn't revel in that though. He still had unfinished business. Jisaemon might be bleeding profusely but he was still alive, too. Sheathing his sword, Hiko walked towards the man slowly, listening to the peals of celebratory laughter that echoed across the bloody field. Jisaemon caught sight of him, and he lowered Naosuke's head, grinning.

"Some things are meant to be, Seijuurou." Almost reverently, he knelt and placed Naosuke's head on the ground, then pulled a short dagger from his hakama. "I do not regret my actions. I serve the emperor, and even if he cannot see what must be done for this country, there are those who will help him find his way." Hiko increased his speed as Jisaemon placed the tanto at one end of his already torn stomach. The traitor thought he was dying with honor but he was taking the coward's way out, and if Hiko could help it, he was not going to let him have that satisfaction.

"I'll see you in the next life, Seijuurou." Jisaemon plunged the tanto into his side then, grunting as he ripped the dagger up and across. He fell forward as Hiko reached him, hand still closed loosely around the bloodied hilt of the tanto. "Tell your student . . . I'm sorry for his pain." Jisaemon gasped as Hiko stopped in front of him.

"Apologies mean nothing at this point." Hiko said. He bent down and Jisaemon choked back a cry as Hiko grabbed his hair, pulling his head up. "Do you think you can make up for everything you've done with this little bit of self-imposed suffering at the end? That it will somehow purge you of sins?"

"No. Not completely. But at least I can choose the manner of my death." Jisaemon said through gritted teeth, voice hardly more than a whisper.

Hiko let Jisaemon's head drop, pulling his sword "No. You can't." He gave the samurai one last scornful look before unsheathing his sword and slicing Jisaemon's head from his body in one smooth motion. Quick; merciful; relatively painless; and since an enemy had performed the decapitation, _not_ an honorable way to die after attempting seppuku.

The samurai Jisaemon conscripted had all fallen back when Hiko approached, and they continued to move further from the castle now, drifting towards the forest they'd come from. Apparently they cared little for what happened after their mission was accomplished. Despite their leader's death, their attitude was still joyful, although considerably subdued as they observed Hiko's movements without trying to appear obvious.

As they left, one of the samurai dropped a sheet of paper to the ground, where it fluttered gently. Hiko moved towards the square of white, tilting his head to read it. Bold strokes filled the page, outlining a manifesto. The final paragraph summarized the reasons for the morning's attack.

_We have consecrated ourselves to be the instruments of Heaven to punish this wicked man, and we have taken on ourselves the duty of ending a serious evil, by killing this atrocious autocrat._

Hiko snorted at the flowery language. That was just like Jisaemon, trying to make plain murder sound like justice by wrapping it in pretty words. Hiko raised his head skywards, sighing as he watched a skein of clouds float across the blue sky. People's souls were truly conflicted, an echo of the tumultuous times they lived in.

Faint sounds from inside the sakuradamon brought Hiko's eyes back to his immediate surroundings. Reinforcements would be arriving any minute, and he didn't want to be here when they burst through the gate looking for conspirators. It was time to leave. There was nothing more he could for Naosuke, and the men who had accompanied him to the castle were either dead or had run off. Turning his back on the violent scene that lay just outside the castle walls, he made his way back to the end of the southern castle road.

Kenshin was still lying there unmoving, although it looked as if his eyes were at least partially open. Now that the battle was resolved, Hiko found himself beset by conflicting emotions. He was pleased that his deshi had managed to hold his own for the most part and hadn't been sliced in two. However . . . he wanted to strangle him for showing up in the first place. And when it came to displaying approval or irritation Hiko was much better versed in the latter. He had already prepared a sufficient tongue-lashing by the time he reached Kenshin but he found the words died in his throat when he saw the sheer relief written across his pupil's face.

"Shishou, I knew you couldn't be dead!" Kenshin was struggling to raise himself but Hiko shook his head.

"Lie still." He ordered, kneeling and prodding Kenshin gently as he searched for new wounds. He had come by a number of minor cuts and there was already impressive bruising across his neck from where the saiya had choked him. It didn't seem as though he'd acquired anything more serious though . . .

Hiko looked up sharply as Kenshin flinched and gasped. His hand was resting above the lower half of Kenshin's stomach. "Here?" For several long seconds Kenshin looked as if drawing a breath was agony.

"Y-yes."

Hiko frowned. Cracked ribs, no doubt. Whether they were already injured before Hiko had unceremoniously kicked his own student out of the way was a mystery he didn't care to solve. He continued his prodding and was thankful that Kenshin made no overly pained reaction to his legs or upper body being examined. That just left his arm. Kenshin had managed to lose his sling, and his entire right arm was swollen now, particularly at his wrist. Hiko was fairly certain that there should only be one protrusion where the wrist met the hand, and Kenshin undeniably had two. Something to note, but for the time being, nothing he could do anything about.

The sound of confused voices and the creaking of a large door being swung open drifted towards him, and Hiko paused in his examination. Standing in the middle of the castle grounds, surrounded by dead bodies and a beheaded tairou, was not where he wanted to be when all of Edo's militia were sent chasing after the assassins.

"We need to leave." Hiko plucked Kenshin from the ground even as he tried to get to his feet, pulling his deshi close enough so that the Hiten mantle draped over him, effectively hiding him from view. Kenshin stiffened briefly and let out a faint squeak, then became dead weight. In hindsight, Hiko probably should have given the boy a warning, as there was really nowhere to pick him up that wasn't sorely abused. Time was of the essence though and it was better that Kenshin suffer a brief shock than Hiko have to deal with a sticky situation that would be anything but brief.

Moving swiftly, Hiko disappeared down the road just as the sakuradamon were thrown completely open and a stream of men stumbled onto the macabre scene. He heard the chaos that erupted, heard someone loudly reading the manifesto that had been left. The sound of sheathed swords thumping against their wielder's legs suggested men were already spreading out to search for culprits. And then Hiko rounded a bend in the road and the animated sounds faded into the distance, leaving him to listen to his own breathing.

He slowed then and glanced down to make sure Kenshin was still hidden beneath his cloak. A man carrying an unconscious boy looked suspicious enough. When said boy looked as maltreated as Kenshin . . . well, Hiko didn't need to gather any more attention than he already had.

Kenshin appeared to be resting comfortably but his peaceful expression was belied by the ugly gray pallor of his skin. This was accompanied by labored breathing that occasionally rattled in his chest, and fever-heated skin that burned against Hiko's arms and chest. If Kyoto hadn't been in the cards two days before, it was even further away now.

One thing they couldn't do was stay at Naosuke's residence for the night. Hiko was going to have to find lodging, and that could prove troublesome, depending on how fast the news of Naosuke's death traveled. He supposed the surrounding woods would do well enough for a night, give him time to assess the situation. He should be able to find some medicinal plants to complement the ones Hattori had already given him.

First though−Hiko glanced at his deshi again to make sure he hadn't missed it, saw he hadn't−they were making a side stop to retrieve Kenshin's sword. The baka had dropped it after all.

* * *

**At last, Jisaemon meets his end! Just a quick historical note: I did not choose to change history. Ii Naosuke really was assassinated by Arimura Jisaemon, and Jisaemon actually did commit seppuku immediately afterwards. (Pretty sure he wasn't beheaded by a Hiten Mitsurugi master but I'm gonna let that one slide.) I'm not sure what happened to the Mito samurai but I'm gonna say they tried to run as fast as they could back to Mito. **

**Whew, no more attempts on Kenshin's life! He's safe to recover. We'll see how that goes in the next couple of chapters. As always, comments and cc are welcome and appreciated! Thanks to all my reviewers! May your lives be full of lots of good stuff.**

**Kaida Ukitake: **Haha, your review made me laugh! Glad you enjoyed the chapter!

**Szahara again**: Thanks for the in-depth review! Gush all you want, I don't mind. ;) I have watched the training episodes sooooo many times. Love 'em! Yes, Kenshin left his sword. He's not thinking very clearly right now. As for Jinchuu . . . *shudder* Yeah. That ending just about makes me cry. Which is NOT how RK is supposed to end! I think I already ranted about that before, so I'll stop now. I feel like I'm slighting you for such a short response to your review!

**Althea M**: Catching breaks isn't allowed if you're a practitioner of Hiten Mitsurugi. It's in the rules somewhere. :) Hiko definitely wasn't too happy at Jisaemon's comment about how he treated Kenshin. But like the stoic swordsman he is, he handled it rather well. "You're welcome" for keeping it interesting! I do try.

**ZukoFlame**: Okay, here you go. *chastising tap* ;) Seriously, don't feel bad. I read chapters and then don't have time to write a good review so I plan on going back later . . . and then stuff happens . . . you get the idea. Yes, Hiko had to choose who to save. Oh, the trials of a Hiten Mitsurugi master! On the up side, this should spur Kenshin on to become better quickly, so he can rely on himself instead of Hiko. Eagerly awaiting your next chapter!

**one-who-loves-sesshy**: Yep, stress, wounds and fights are never good for keeping fever low. We'll see what happens!

**t42n24t**: I think you are always the first to review! You need a trophy or something. Yeah, Hiko might've spent a little too long enjoying his retribution . . .


	25. Chapter 25

**"Howdy howdy howdy!" I think I actually have nothing to say here, except this quote that popped into my head. Enjoy the latest installment!**

* * *

Lightning had been flashing in the sky for some time when Hiko came within sight of the tairou's residence. It was hardly past midday but rain-clogged thunderclouds had moved in quickly, prematurely darkening the afternoon sky. It was an appropriate atmosphere to enter what looked like a graveyard.

Hiko stepped into the courtyard amid peals of thunder, a brief flash of déjà vu grabbing hold of him as he saw the bodies that littered the ground. He moved slowly towards Naosuke's house, giving each of the bodies a cursory glance. All had fatal sword wounds. Some had died almost immediately; others, not so quickly. From the way a number of them had fallen close together, Hiko deduced that the men had fought in groups to try and hold off the attackers.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised at the carnage. Jisaemon had said he'd sent men here. Apparently those men had decided to slaughter anyone they set eyes on. The small massacre would be a shock for anyone returning later that day.

With a shake of his head, Hiko put the scene behind him, stepping onto Naosuke's porch. The heavens let loose as soon as he'd walked through the open shoji, the sound of rain pelting the ground a welcome relief from the clang of swords that still echoed in his ears.

Kenshin's sword was painfully easy to find−he'd left it in the middle of the main room. There was no saiya though, so Hiko walked towards the bedrooms. He knew which one he should go to−there was a gaping hole in the one where he and Kenshin had stayed, and Hiko could see through the ripped paper what looked like a person sprawled on the floor.

Further inspection revealed not one but two people lying on the floor−corpses−and Kenshin's saiya almost on top of one of them. Hiko's eyebrows rose as he nudged a boot under the sheath and flipped it upwards, catching it with his free hand. These men had been killed by something considerably smaller than a sword. Hiko's eyes drifted over the bodies, caught the knife hilt embedded in one of the men's necks. It had been jabbed there firmly, not in a downward slash as a swordsman would have used.

Not a Hiten Mitsurugi maneuver.

That aside, he doubted that Kenshin had been the one to perform the deed. Even without injuries, a child who had never killed before, no matter how skilled, would find it psychologically taxing to dispatch two grown men. His deshi must have had help−and it was unlikely that help came from either of the men on the floor−but Hiko could sense no one else here.

"Interesting." Hiko murmured. Well, Kenshin could assuage his curiosity when he woke up. For the time being . . .

Hiko stuck Kenshin's saiya into his waistband, sheathing the sword while walking into the next room. Given the weather, it should be safe enough to stay here through the night. Nobody was going to come calling in this downpour, and it was better that Kenshin stay out of the elements. Hopefully there would be a little food in the kitchen to tide them over, too.

The adjoining room was much the same as the one Hiko had just left. There were two futon in a back corner, and a small tansu in the other. A paper lantern sat by the door, the rotund shadow that it cast with the lingering daylight mingling with Hiko's longer one.

Hiko laid out one of the futon and deposited Kenshin on it, then knelt back, hands on his knees. Even unconscious, his deshi's expression was pained, and sweat was trickling down his face. Hiko knew from the walk back that his fever was reaching dangerous heights. It needed to come down before he could focus on anything else.

Hiko went to rummage through the tansu, finding several sheets stored there amid thick winter haori and sleeping kimono. He ripped one of the sheets into long strips, then threw a speculative glance at the covered window in the room before rising and heading towards the kitchen. Two wooden buckets hung just inside the door, and Hiko grabbed both of them before heading for the porch. The rain was turning out to be very convenient; drawing water was an easy task in the deluge.

Holding the buckets out to fill, Hiko spared a glance towards the road. Only sheets of rain met his gaze, pelleting the ground with enough intensity to send droplets of mud splashing up. In the scant time it took the buckets to overflow, Hiko saw only one person, and they hurried past the tairou's quarters without a sideways glance, holding a bedraggled umbrella whose effectiveness was limited to aesthetic appeal.

Satisfied that the storm promised solitude, Hiko returned inside, setting the buckets by Kenshin's futon and throwing in the strips of cloth he'd torn. The rain on the roof beat a relaxing tattoo, and Hiko would have enjoyed it more if he didn't have a severely wounded deshi on his hands. Still, it was a nice atmosphere to work too, and thankfully Naosuke's house was well-kept enough that there were no leaks in the roof.

Hiko let the cloth soak for a moment before lifting it out, placing it on Kenshin's forehead after wringing out the excess water. There was a flicker of movement under Kenshin's closed eyelids but nothing more. Hiko tossed more of the cloth strips into the water and moved behind Kenshin, raising his upper body off the futon and pulling the gi down around his waist. It might not be a good idea to leave him shirtless all night, but his fever needed to go down, and the quickest way to do that was to cool his entire body.

Hiko placed the remaining strips of wet cloth along Kenshin's arms and stomach, eyes darkening when he saw the red-rimmed bruise that the saiya thrust had left. He ran a hand over the inflamed area, pausing when he encountered a slight protrusion. He had no doubt now that it had been the saiya, and not his kick, that had done more damage. It made him wish he hadn't been so efficient when killing the man who had taken his saiya.

Removing his hand, Hiko moved back to the tansu and picked up another sheet, ripping it the same as the first. Better to have extra rags on hand and be able to quickly exchange them than have to wait for the used ones to re-soak and cool.

As he was finishing tearing the second sheet, a pained groan slid from Kenshin. Hiko looked over, saw that Kenshin's chest was heaving, his fingers twitching sporadically. He kept watching to see if his deshi was waking. Kenshin's eyes did finally slide open, although Hiko was vaguely alarmed at their lackluster appearance. The usual brightness that lit them was missing and a dull plum color had replaced what was usually a curious mix of blue and violet. Hiko decided to test the waters.

"Kenshin?" The boy's head moved slightly in his direction, and then his eyes flew open and he jerked upright, features suddenly overwrought with scared confusion.

"Where am I?"

Hiko kept his voice calm. "Back at Naosuke's. Do you remember what happened?"

"Who are you?"

Was his fever that bad? Or was he just so disoriented that he didn't know what was what? Hiko walked towards him, letting Kenshin see his face. For a second, Kenshin's expression was positively wild, but then recognition washed over his features.

"Shishou?" His voice was shaking. "Is it over? Did you−did you−"

"You don't need to worry about Jisaemon." Hiko told him, bending to pick up the rags that had fallen to the ground when Kenshin had sat up. He stopped when he saw Kenshin's eyes fill with tears. "You can't be sad about this?" Hiko asked, completely baffled.

"N-no." Hiko waited a moment but Kenshin simply continued to cry without offering another explanation.

"Then what is it?" Hiko asked, fighting to keep frustration from overriding the calm in his voice.

"I'm s-sorry, shishou," Kenshin quavered, "I know a swordsman isn't supposed to cry," He scrubbed at his eyes ineffectually, "but my stomach really hurts, and my back hurts, and my throat hurts-" He broke off as a new wave of tears took him.

Hiko looked at the sobbing boy, wanting to show him the compassion that he needed. Too much, though, was just as bad as too little. It was a fine line to walk, and he had difficulty with it. He knew Kenshin was in agony though. He should say something, at least.

"There's no shame in crying, Kenshin." Hiko's voice had softened. "You could easily have died." He hadn't voiced it aloud yet, hadn't thought too much on the fact that he could be staring at his deshi's earthly shell at the moment, and the words almost caught in his throat. It wasn't something he wanted to think about it.

Kenshin's sobs began to subside, although tears still ran freely down his cheeks. Dropping the scattered makeshift compresses into one of the water buckets, Hiko lifted a fresh handful of dripping rags from the other one. He motioned at Kenshin. "Lie still now. Your fever needs to come down, you're almost delirious."

Kenshin settled himself tentatively, glanced up at Hiko. "I'm not cold anymore." He offered, face hopeful.

"Shivering is a good sign," Hiko replied, "it means your fever isn't too high."

"Oh." Both fell silent then, Hiko covering Kenshin with compresses, Kenshin struggling to hold his pain in check. The rain continued to fall as tirelessly as it had begun, and the shadows in the room melded into a misty gray as all remnants of daylight faded.

"I'm going to light the lantern and mix some medicine," Hiko stood as he finished placing the compresses, taking one of the buckets with him. "Rest until I'm back." Kenshin nodded, eyes half closed. He looked exhausted but Hiko doubted he would be able to get a restful sleep. His body was working too hard to heal itself.

Hiko lit the lantern first, its paper sides softening the harsh light of the flame and leaving the room cradled in a smooth glow. The fragrant smell of rapeseed oil began to fill the room as Hiko headed towards the kitchen.

Several mugs sat on the edge of the large stove, and Hiko grabbed one of them. He would fire the oven later−assuming he could find dry wood somewhere in the house. For now, Kenshin would just have to drink the medicine cold.

Hiko stood in the doorway at the rear of kitchen and refilled the bucket, then held the mug out as well, observing the weather as he did so. The rain wasn't falling as aggressively as earlier but it was still coming down in thick sheets. The steady rolls of thunder were accompanied by frequent bursts of lightning that tore at the darkness of the sky. Probably the storm would continue well into the morning. That was good. More time for Kenshin to rest.

Kenshin's eyes were closed when Hiko came back into the room, and for a moment the Hiten Mitsurugi master considered letting his pupil sleep. As Hiko drew closer though, he saw that Kenshin was so soaked in sweat that his body literally glowed in the lamplight. Sleep was out of the question.

"Kenshin," Hiko knelt beside him, taking out the medicine and mixing it into the mug. "Kenshin, wake up." He waited a moment, then placed a hand on Kenshin's arm and shook it lightly, grimacing at the heat that met his hand. No doubt the compresses' effectiveness had expired.

"Tou-san?"

Hiko assumed he had finally drifted into delirium and was seeing things. Kenshin's foggy eyes met his then, and when no light of recognition filled them Hiko realized with a start that the boy was addressing him. He opened his mouth to correct the error but stopped as his hand was suddenly consumed with warmth. Looking down, he saw Kenshin's fingers were wrapped around his, and his eyes were falling closed again. Hiko's mouth snapped shut and his features softened as he pulled his hand from Kenshin's. Better to say nothing and save him more confusion.

"Don't leave, tou-san." Kenshin whimpered in response.

"I'm not leaving." Hiko began removing the heated strips of cloth from Kenshin, placing them into the newly filled water bucket. He positioned a hand under Kenshin's neck afterwards, angling him upwards and bringing the mug of cold medicine towards his mouth. "Drink this."

Kenshin drained the contents with such fervor that Hiko followed the medicine with a cup of plain water. Stupid of him, not to think of dehydration with a fever this high. He'd have to make sure Kenshin drank plenty of water through the night.

Easing his pupil back onto the futon, Hiko once again started the monotonous chore of placing the wet rags across Kenshin's body. Kenshin twitched and made as if to shove them off. "Leave them." Hiko ordered, adding more quietly, "they'll help you feel better."

Even delirious, Kenshin did as he was told. He'd always been obedient to a fault.

"Tou-san," Hiko winced. Kenshin calling him that made him more discomfited than he cared to admit. "I want kaa-san."

Wonderful. Not only was the boy delirious, he wanted someone who wasn't even alive anymore. "She's . . . not here, Kenshin." Kenshin's brow furrowed, and he blinked slowly.

"Why're you calling me that?"

"Calling you−?" Hiko's puzzlement was short-lived. Well, he was already playing a different role, might as well go for broke. "Ah, I meant Shinta."

"That's my name," Kenshin said, sounding more as if he were trying to convince himself than affirming Hiko. "What was that other name?"

"Kenshin." Hiko finished placing the compresses and sat indian-style at Kenshin's side.

"I like that name." Kenshin said dreamily. Hiko watched as his eyes slid shut, stayed that way. He waited a moment, then laid a hand against Kenshin's cheek. It felt marginally cooler, if not anywhere near free of fever. Maybe it was thanks in part to the compresses but hopefully the medicine was already working.

Hiko got to his feet, taking the buckets with him. Kenshin seemed sincerely asleep, even if it was somewhat restless. Now was a good time to try and heat the oven and make some food. Kenshin might not be coherent enough to eat but Hiko was starving. He had a feeling he had a long night ahead of him and that required sustenance.

The kitchen didn't have much in the way of food−just a small bag of rice, some dried mushrooms and a jar of dashi, along with a moderate collection of spices and herbs. It was enough for a simple meal though. Hiko could make a broth with the dashi. It would give Kenshin something in the way of nutrition to fuel his healing body.

Luckily, there were two small piles of firewood next to the oven: one of kindling, the other of neatly hewn logs. Enough for one good fire. Hiko set to work, all the while listening for sounds indicating Kenshin was no longer sleeping. If his deshi woke up and found there was no one with him, there was no telling how he might react.

Being a fair hand in the kitchen, it didn't take Hiko long to cook some rice and season an ample portion of mushrooms. He was hungry enough to consider eating right there over the stove, decided instead he might as well tote the food into the bedroom and see if Kenshin was interested in anything solid. He needed some serious calorie intake. The way he looked, he'd probably already lost half the muscle he'd built up in the past few years. That was mildly annoying; Hiko had worked hard to pack some flesh onto that scrawny body.

Bowl of food in hand, Hiko returned to the bedroom. He didn't expect Kenshin to be awake; certainly didn't expect to see him sitting up. But there he was, sitting with his legs splayed in front of him, staring at the floor with a queasy expression on his face. He looked up when Hiko walked in, clouded eyes focusing on his teacher.

"I don't feel good." Kenshin's voice was hardly audible, and Hiko intuited more than heard what he said.

"Are you just hurting? Or sick?"_ Don't feel good_ could cover a multitude of causes.

Kenshin shook his head. "Don't feel good." He repeated, coughing. The deceptively innocuous cough continued, and moments later dark liquid spewed from Kenshin's mouth. The coughing subsided and Kenshin stared at Hiko as if expecting some sort of rebuke. When none came, he hung his head. "Gomen," He was breathing heavily, as if all his energy had just been expended.

Hiko's heart was hammering frantically against his chest. Few things in life had caused it to race as it was now. As he took in the spreading crimson stain at Kenshin's feet he found himself beset by crippling fear, and the food he still held was as good as forgotten.

_Blood? He threw up __**blood**_? This was far out of his league. It was no longer something his passable medical skills as a swordsman could deal with. He needed to find a doctor or Kenshin would−

_Get a grip, Seijuurou_, Hiko snapped at himself. Thinking about what _would_ happen wasn't going to accomplish anything. He needed to act. The logical thing to do would be to find a doctor.

In darkness. In a city he didn't know. In the middle of a god-awful rainstorm.

The despair that threatened to engulf him ebbed back into the shadows at a soft exclamation. Hiko looked over sharply. Kenshin had brought one of his hands to his mouth and was staring at it as if fascinated.

"My mouth's bleeding." He sounded as confused as he looked but his expression quickly shifted to worry. "Shishou . . . am I dying?" His eyes met Hiko's, searching for reassurance.

"No." Hiko said shortly, thinking furiously. He almost didn't notice that Kenshin had addressed him correctly. "No, you're not." An idea struck him then, and his lip twisted upwards. Hattori had said to call for him if necessary. Now seemed necessary. He wasn't sure of the doctor's exact location but it couldn't be too far from Naosuke's residence.

"Kenshin," Hiko surveyed his student. He was in horrible condition to be carted around in the rain, but Hiko couldn't leave him here. Not as he was now. He didn't know how much time he had.

"What, shishou?"

"We need to leave. This place has a bad atmosphere." He was careful not to mention anything pertaining to Kenshin's condition. The boy didn't need to be upset by anything else.

"You're not going to eat first?"

Hiko blinked, realizing then he was still holding the bowl of food he'd made. Typical of his deshi to notice something that didn't even matter. Hiko eyed the bowl of rice and mushrooms, then threw back his head and dumped the contents into his mouth. He imagined it must look ridiculous. "There. Satisfied?"

Kenshin's eyes were on Hiko's face, but the odd twitch in his mouth and lowered chin suggested he was trying to hold back laughter.

"Am I amusing you?" Hiko asked with mock sternness. Kenshin's eyes fell then and he choked back what might have been a giggle.

"No, shishou."

"Good. A master of Hiten Mitsurugi should never be amusing."

"No, shishou," Kenshin agreed, although a wide grin split his face now.

Well, at least he could still crack a smile. It probably wouldn't last long once they started moving though. "I'm going to move fast, Kenshin." Hiko warned, crouching alongside his deshi. "Are you ready?" Kenshin nodded tightly, body tensed even before Hiko scooped him up.

With one arm securely wrapped around Kenshin, Hiko pulled the Hiten mantle over his head so it would at least give him marginal shelter from the pouring rain. If nothing else, Kenshin was completely covered.

The staccato plip of rain intensified as Hiko stepped out of the house and onto the porch. It was almost serendipitous that the storm was still raging. There would be no one casting curious glances his way, and the frequent lightning would provide him a clear image of the roads and signs.

A loud peal of thunder drowned out the rain's din for a brief second and Hiko felt Kenshin start. A cough shook his body immediately afterwards. The muffled sound dispelled any reservations Hiko might have had about braving the elements while they were still in such turmoil. At the next burst of lightning he was off the porch, keeping the mantle tightly closed in front of him even as his speed caused it to flare behind him. His face was instantly needled with rain, the wind driving it into his eyes with painful force, but he didn't succumb to the urge to lower his head and shield his eyes.

He'd already decided to restrict his initial search to the heart of the town. That was where there would be the most business, and where any doctor who wished for affluence would keep his practice. It was still a lot of ground to cover, considering that he held a child who was coughing blood. But it was all he had left.

Hiko sped through the rain-darkened evening, noticing as the houses became more closely spaced and jumbled together the farther he moved from Naosuke's residence. He was moving away from the Imperial dwellings and into the common sector of Edo. Every now and again he got a glimpse of a placard hanging outside a building, and he read each with expectancy: Sumimura dojo; money exchange; another dojo. He kept moving, refusing to be disheartened, eyes straining only for one thing.

He almost missed it. The building was small and unremarkable, positioned at the corner of an intersection that looked like it would be bustling on a pleasant day. He would have run right by except for the well-timed blaze of light that seared the heavens and lit all of Edo at exactly the right moment. The lightning illuminated a sign just beside the door and Hiko screeched to a stop even as he read it, water pluming behind him before crashing to the ground.

"Public Walk-in Clinic." Hiko skimmed over the first several lines describing the clinic, looking for the physician's name. His gaze drifted to the bottom of the sign, stopping on a name written with bold strokes. He read it carefully, then stepped under the scantily covered entryway and rang the bell beside the door of the Hattori clinic.

* * *

**You don't want to know how much time I spent translating the fine print on the sign outside Gensai's clinic to help me come up with a legitimate doctor's sign. I think I could have made something up that sounded as legit as "walk-in clinic." Ah well, enjoy the experience, right? On a brief side note, does anyone ever wonder at the amount of blood (or consecutive number of times) anime characters seem to cough up and then be completely fine afterwards aside from a bruise or two? This has always astounded me (I'm not sure why, because my brain is completely fine with people moving at ridiculously fast speeds and ostensibly flying). **

**Thanks to all my readers, super thanks to my reviewers!**

**HitenRyu - Glad you're enjoying the story! I must admit though, the second part of your review confused me a little. **

**Kaida Ukitake - Whoo fight scenes! They're challenging to write but the end result is always fun. Heh, I think "epic" is just a synonym for "Hiko."**

**Althea M - Yes, I imagine Kenshin was pretty pleased with Hiko's decision on who to save, too. ;) They are in something of a bind now, huh? Trust Hiko to figure something out!**

**one-who-loves-sesshy - Kenshin's bound to have a few vain moments sometime in the future for surviving this, huh?**

**t42n24t - Happy late birthday! Hope it was tons of fun. I have to say, I kind of (purposefully) set Hiko up for a fail when I began the story. I wanted to throw a kind of loss at him, see how he would deal with that. There'll be some more Hiko introspection on that in the next chapter. Haha, yeah, money seems like it might be an issue. And I might be tempted to just gloss over how that little problem is taken care of. I suppose Hiko can start making special orders of pottery if need be. ;) **


	26. Chapter 26

**I was pretty disappointed with this chapter the entire time I was writing it, but when I read it once it was completed, I liked it better. So hopefully that "betterness" is what will be conveyed. Ah . . . next chapter might be 3 weeks off? Not due to a lack of inspiration but because I have a writing assignment and a recital over these next two weeks AND my parents are coming to visit, and all of that combined will probably kill my extra-curricular writing time. Definitely before Thanksgiving though!**

**I confess, I might have slacked on the proof-reading for this chapter, so yell at me if you catch anything, and I will hasten to fix it!**

* * *

Hattori Genma was taking a leisurely inventory of his supplies as he listened to the rain. The sound was soothing but he was still on edge from the happenings several days earlier. He hadn't expected that simply performing his duties as a doctor would have rough-looking men coming to his door and threatening his family. It had been upsetting to say the least, and his wife was still on pins and needles. She was the reason Hattori was doing the inventory by himself tonight. Usually his oldest son helped, but Hattori had sent him out of the clinic early the last few evenings. Just in case. Therefore, he was understandably more than just startled when he heard the chime of the guest bell outside the clinic door.

Hattori paused, his heart thudding above the sound of the rain. Kouhei wouldn't have come back; even if he wanted to, his mother wouldn't allow it. It could be more unwanted visitors . . . but he'd told the thugs who had burst into his clinic everything he could −nothing, really−so he could only think of one reason they would be back.

_Have they decided to kill me_?

The bell rang again, twice, and this time a voice accompanied it. Hattori felt his heart slow a fraction. He was too flustered to place the voice, but it was familiar. Not exactly friendly, but there was no malice there either. And surely if men were coming to kill him they would just force their way in without regard for politeness, as they had before. In that case, there must be someone out in this horrible weather who needed assistance. Maybe some foolish merchant who had fallen and sprained his ankle in the rain.

Making one last note on the scroll he carried, Hattori rolled the paper and put it away as he walked to the door. He slid the shoji open a crack−there was still no reason not to take precautions−and felt his heartbeat resume its galloping pace when he saw the imposing figure standing outside the clinic.

"Hiko-san," He stuttered, a jolt of fear passing through him as he stood dumbly with his hand still on the shoji. _Does he know . . .?_ A careful glance at the impassive face revealed nothing so Hattori chose to tread carefully. "What are you-" He stopped, lowering his voice and continuing in a hiss, "What are you doing out in this weather? Why have you come here?"

"Are you going to invite me in, or should I just stand here and get pneumonia?" Hiko asked mildly.

Hattori hesitated, Hiko's sarcasm lost on him. Was he about to be slaughtered in his own house? He scoffed at himself immediately. This man could kill him with far less trouble than he was going to. He wasn't here to kill the doctor.

"Excuse me, I'm just−a little on edge today. Please, come in." Hattori waved him forward, closing the shoji so hastily that he almost clipped Hiko's mantle. "You shouldn't need more medicine yet. Has something happened?"

Hiko flipped his dripping cloak aside in response, revealing Kenshin's comatose form curled in his arms.

Hattori had to choke back a cry of shock. "These wounds−they're all new. What has the boy been doing?"

"Doing as well as he could, given the circumstances." Hiko said nebulously. He looked Hattori in the eye then, getting right to the point. "He coughed up blood just a while ago."

Hattori tried not to flinch under the gaze. Hiko's delivery had been purposefully abrupt; Hattori knew Hiko was watching him, ready to judge his reaction to the information. Anyone knew coughing blood was a bad sign. What Hiko would want to know was if Hattori could do anything about it.

"It's not good," Hattori began slowly, "but it's also not necessarily deadly. He needs attention right away though. I can't promise anything but I'll do my best." Hattori began walking to the back of the clinic, beckoning Hiko to follow. "Normally my son would be here to assist me but−he's not here tonight. I'm assuming you'll be willing to assist?"

Hiko caught the slight pause, tied it to Hattori's earlier comment about being on edge. "Why isn't your son here?"

"He's−at home. In bed." Hattori stammered, covering his unease as he went through the motions of heating water and gathering supplies he might need.

"Mm. So he's being lazy." Hiko mused indifferently. Hattori missed the calculation behind the words, heard only the insult, and his eyes flashed.

"Kouhei is not lazy. We−there were some visitors a couple of days ago. My wife thought it best he stay home tonight."

Hiko's affected manner fell away and his eyes narrowed. "Visitors? Wanting what?"

Hattori motioned at a western-style bed, waiting for Hiko to lay Kenshin there before answering with a sigh. "They asked about you and your student."

The swordmaster stared at Hattori for a long minute. "And?" The word was cold, flat.

"They wanted to know how badly your student was hurt, and asked if you were still in Edo." Frigid silence met him, so Hattori continued, feeling as if his life hinged on his explanation. "I'm sorry, Hiko-san, but I can't risk the lives of my family. I told them I assumed you were still in Edo." He spoke defiantly. If the man wanted to kill him for that, let him. Hattori had done all he could to help; one could only sacrifice so much for a patient. He found himself breathing deeply when Hiko's stabbing gaze relaxed.

"Don't trouble yourself over it. They would have found out one way or the other." The sharpness in Hiko's voice had left as well, and Hattori wondered if he'd been expecting a different answer.

He put the uncomfortable moment behind him and turned his attention fully to Kenshin, looking first at the purple-red bruise on his chest. If there was any place that indicated possible internal bleeding, that was it. Hattori pressed his hands firmly against the bruise, moving across it several times to judge the condition of the bones underneath. Kenshin jerked. "He's broken a rib here," Hattori waved a hand at the bruise. "It could have chipped and nicked something inside." Hattori picked up his listening tube. "I'm going to check for that." He spent the next five minutes carefully placing the tube in varying locations across Kenshin's chest, face intent.

"There aren't any large punctures," Hattori announced at last, putting his tube aside. "But that just means there's nothing immediately serious. There could still be a fragment that might cause infection later. The blood he's coughing up is most likely from damaged blood vessels here." He pointed at Kenshin's neck, now ornamented with a dark purple ring. "It should stop within a day, two at most." He thought he saw Hiko's shoulders drop a fraction but he couldn't be sure.

"More immediately though, his fever is far too high. And he needs to get out of those wet clothes before he develops a cold."

With Hiko's help, Hattori undressed Kenshin, not hiding the urgency in his movements. It wasn't like him to increase a client's anxiety but he was certain Hiko already knew things were a breath away from becoming dire. Otherwise he wouldn't have run here with his student as injured as he was in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Hattori knew he had run. Kenshin was damp, yes, but he wasn't soaked through. Even traveling a distance shorter than the tairou's, just having a cloak over him wouldn't have been enough to shelter him from this downpour.

As he examined the rest of the young swordsman's body, Hattori marveled that the boy was still alive. Any other child would have been hard pressed to recover from the malnourishment and hideous wounds Hattori had observed the first time he'd treated Kenshin. And while Kenshin was nowhere near recovery, he _was_ still alive. His wrist was sprained worse than before though, and his entire right arm was red and swollen. Hattori could put two and two together. The boy had been in a fight, and if his inflamed arm was any clue, he'd wielded his sword with both hands. The pain he must have been in if he'd fought like that . . .

Hattori shook his head. "His stamina is extraordinary." He addressed Hiko. "His name suits him surprisingly well."

"It's certainly more fitting than the name he started with."

"Ah." Hattori almost smiled, reading the unspoken boast. So Hiko had given his deshi a name that reflected his art. Somehow, he didn't find it surprising.

"Hiko-san, could you sit Kenshin up for me? I need to look at his back." Hiko obliged and Hattori peeled aside the layers of bandages that covered his back. After seeing the gray tint to his skin and the new injuries, Hattori was fairly certain what would meet his eyes. This was more a confirmation than an observation; the bandages would have to be removed anyway to prep for what would come next.

As he took in the oozing wounds−definitely not healing−he saw his suspicions were correct. "The inflammation on his back is feeding the fever." Hattori stood abruptly and walked out of the room, leaving a mystified Hiko still holding his student upright.

He returned with a steaming bucket and a handful of towels. "It must be washed, every day, until the infection begins to recede. Otherwise even medicine will do no good." Hattori sat the bucket on the floor next to the bed and pulled a stool over to sit behind Kenshin. "Just keep holding him there. I'll rewrap his back after this, and his arm too."

Hattori was methodic and thorough in his work. The first time he set down the washcloths, reaching to his right and hoisting a thin silver knife, Hiko watched with mild interest. When Hattori deftly angled the knife against Kenshin's back and sliced downwards, a trickle of fluids issuing forth as a deadened piece of tissue was removed, Hiko almost lost the rice and mushrooms he'd choked down earlier. Seeing severe wounds was something he was used to and generally unphased by but he hadn't been prepared for Hattori's method of treatment. And it didn't just look revolting−it smelled revolting, too.

From then on, Hiko pretended to be interested in the other side of the room each time Hattori reached for his knife. He was fairly certain the doctor was laughing at him inwardly but he refused to admit to the charade.

Mercifully, Kenshin stayed unconscious the entire time Hattori was tending his back. He didn't show any sign of waking until after his arm had been rebandaged and Hattori had begun to lay strips of cold compresses on him. Then, his eyes flickered several times, but they never opened fully.

"Even if he doesn't wake up, he needs the medicine I gave you." Hattori explained as Kenshin's eyes fell undeniably closed. He ran a final appraising look over his patient, then raised himself from the stool he'd been sitting on for the past several hours. He stretched stiff joints, eliciting a string of faint pops. Hiko made no effort to move, sitting with his arms crossed and a slight crease in his brow as he stared with unseeing eyes at his student.

Hattori could tell the swordsmaster was deep in thought, and he didn't want to interrupt, but the weariness on his features was hard to ignore. The man needed to relax, if only for a brief amount of time. "Hiko-san, you must be tired and hungry." Hattori motioned to the back of the clinic. "Let me introduce you to my family. My house is directly behind the clinic. My wife can cook you something, and give you a place to sleep for the night."

Hattori waited a moment, expecting a rebuttal when he didn't immediately receive an answer. Then, just as he was about to query again, Hiko looked over at him.

"Thank you for offering." He stood then, and Hattori didn't miss how his eyes strayed over Kenshin almost unconsciously, face still creased.

"He won't be alone. I'm going to monitor him through tonight." Hattori offered. Although he sensed Hiko would never admit to worry, he also knew he wasn't immune to it. Hattori could see it in his posture, in his manner of forced detachedness. Hattori had found that a few words of reassurance always went a long way, no matter how closed a person seemed outwardly.

Indeed, the tightness in Hiko's face relaxed, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement, turning towards Hattori. One hand passed over Kenshin's arm, and for a shocked moment Hattori thought he was caressing the boy. Then Hiko's hand moved, and Hattori saw he had merely set something next to Kenshin's hand, a neatly carved wooden top.

He was curious about the childish toy's significance, but Hattori gave it no more thought as he opened the door that joined the clinic and his house.

* * *

Hiko walked behind Hattori mechanically, moving more from reflexes that told him he should follow than from any conscious effort on his part. His mind was far from the clinic; had been for some time now. Naosuke had lost his life, and Kenshin had very nearly lost his. Doctoring his half-dead student, Hiko hadn't had time to dwell on recent events but now he found his indifferent attitude towards Naosuke's death fast turning to undirected fury.

Hiko didn't regret saving his student− he would make the same choice again in a heartbeat−the issue was that he shouldn't have had to make that choice. The situation could have been avoided all together. The whole scenario was too convoluted for him to really know _how_ at this moment but there was always another way. If Kenshin had stayed where he was supposed to−if Hiko had put more thought into what Jisaemon might plan−if Naosuke hadn't been such a damned fool and left Edo when his aids suggested he do . . .

It was all moot though. In the end, _he_ had made the decision to temporarily adandon the man he was protecting. Admittedly, it was in part his own selfish desire for retribution that had led to Naosuke's death. He could have killed Jisaemon from the start−should have, knowing how far the man had already gone to see his plan to fruition. Jisaemon had made his mission to kill Naosuke personal, and Hiko had let emotion cloud his better judgement.

It just left him more certain that a wielder of Hiten Mitsurugi should never give their power to any one faction. That power under the wrong influence would destroy a country.

"Hiko-san?"

The voice held a tinge of worry, and Hiko realized he was standing in front of a petite, dark-skinned woman who was looking up at him with strained patience. He hadn't heard a thing Hattori had said for some while.

"Forgive me, I was preoccupied-"

"Oh, of course you were!" The woman interrupted, seemingly relieved that the awkward moment had been broken.

"-by such a rare flower." Hiko continued, enjoying the reaction his comment provoked. The woman blushed and tittered, putting a hand to her mouth as she looked at Hattori with smiling eyes. Hattori's mouth dropped slightly and he looked between Hiko and the woman for several moments as if not sure what to say.

"Hiko-san, this is my wife, Misaki," He finally stammered, face falling into a level glare when he met Hiko's eye.

"I see my words weren't misspoken." Hiko said without missing a beat, and then as Hattori's face turned several shades of crimson, he nodded and said, "Hajimemashite."

Misaki giggled again and bowed, echoing the formal greeting. "I wish my husband were as uninhibited in his speech as you. I sometimes think he might have seen a rarer flower with all the time he claims to spend in his clinic." Hiko laughed aloud and Hattori's already red face flushed even more.

"Misaki! That's entirely inappropriate." He muttered. Misaki laughed lightly and patted his arm, then turned back to Hiko.

"My dear husband tells me you need food and a bed, Hiko-sama." Bowing again, she held both hands out in an exaggerated motion for him to follow. "I have food set aside for my husband but there is enough to share with a guest. Please, come eat."

Hattori raised a hand. "Ah, Misaki-chan, I'm staying in the clinic tonight. But make Hiko-san at home." Hiko could almost hear the unspoken _but not too much_ and he smiled inwardly. He wasn't going to act on anything he said but he enjoyed a good repartee and apparently Misaki did too.

Misaki was a polite housewife, and despite her good-humored demeanor towards Hiko's wit, for the most part she watched Hiko eat in silence. She asked no questions about why he was here−Hiko supposed she and Hattori had worked some system out−although she did comment on the sword at his side.

"Your katana−you're samurai?" She asked as she offered him seconds of pickled plums.

"Only a swordsman." Hiko replied, and she nodded and left it at that.

She offered to heat a bath for him afterwards, and he accepted. Kenshin might have had several washings recently, but he hadn't. The grime and dust from his travels was reaching an intolerable level.

When he stepped out of the furo he found his clothes had been whisked away for a cleaning and an absurdly small yukata left in their place. He tied the obi around his waist, frowning at how the yukata hardly reached his knees.

Ridiculous.

Still, his clothes had reeked of sweat and blood. He could endure this for a night.

Hiko thought he caught a hint of a smile when Misaki came to show him to his sleeping quarters, but the lantern partially obscured her features and she turned deftly before he could be sure.

"You can sleep in the room with our two boys, Hiko-sama. I'm sorry we can't offer you a private room."

"Just this is generous of you." Hiko assured her.

Misaki slid the door to the room open, letting light embrace the room long enough for Hiko to see extra bedding stacked neatly against a wall. "The boys will be up early to help with chores. We'll have breakfast then but please sleep as long as you need." And handing the lantern to him, she bowed and bid him goodnight.

* * *

Hattori was true to his word and didn't move from the clinic through the first night. Not even when Hiko strode in, mild irritation on his tired features. Hiko had several valid reasons for the room switch: something about a crowded room, and an inability to sleep due to a child's "incessant tossing." Hattori noticed how each reason conveniently sidestepped any concern for Kenshin.

Hiko had failed to mention that Kenshin's ki intermittently flaring with fear and pain was as much to blame for his disturbed sleep as anything else. The doctor wouldn't sense something like that anyway, so it seemed pointless to mention it. Hiko just wanted his body to stop tingling with alarm every ten minutes, and he was fairly certain that his presence would be enough to calm his student's ki so he could get some shut eye.

It must have worked, because after settling onto a cot Hattori offered him, he didn't wake until the sunlight streaming onto his face made it impossible to keep his eyes closed.

Squinting against the brightness, Hiko automatically glanced towards Kenshin. Sleeping. With his top held loosely in one hand. It had seemed a trivial gesture the night before, but maybe it had done some good after all.

Hiko scanned the room for Hattori next, found the doctor with his back to Hiko, looking as if he were busy with something. Hiko watched him for a moment.

"I take it the night was uneventful?"

Hattori's head lifted, and he turned a moment later with a friendly smile on his face. "Good morning! Yes, mostly an uneventful night. He was going in and out of delirium so his sleep was rough but his fever seems to be marginally lower at this point." Hattori paused. "Like any fever though it will get higher at night but that's to be expected."

"He didn't wake at all?" Hiko willfully kept his glance from straying towards Kenshin again. He didn't know why he felt compelled to keep looking over there−it wasn't as if Kenshin was going to spring awake because of it.

"Not to the point where he was aware of his surroundings." Hattori said. "It might be several days before he's completely lucid again. His fever will stay up until the infection on his back begins to dissipate. He's likely to stay asleep or delirious until then."

The news was frustrating. Hiko didn't know exactly what had happened while Kenshin had been at Honmaru's and those details might be important. Obviously he hadn't _stayed_ at Honmaru's−his sword at Naosuke's was evidence of that. But it made little sense for the enemy to apprehend Kenshin and then bring him to Naosuke's rather than straightaway to the castle. Which meant Kenshin had broken his promise and left Honmaru's his own accord. And for _that_, Hiko wanted an explanation. It would be nice to know if he should be on his guard for reasons unrelated to being in the vicinity of a tairou's assassination.

"-have my son help. Is that alright by you? Hiko-san?"

Damnit. He really was spacing out far too much of late. Lucky he was adept enough to piece together sentence fragments. "As long as you don't let him do something over his head, he can help all he wants."

The words might as well have been a magic incantation because even as Hiko finished speaking a gangly boy popped into the clinic so fast he must have been waiting behind the door. He bowed deeply in front of Hiko.

"I'll do my best, Hiko-san."

Hiko gave him an accusatory frown as he recognized the energy behind the movements. "You're the one that kept me up last night."

The boy kept his face lowered, but Hiko could see his cheeks coloring. "I−I'm sorry. I know I move a lot when I sleep."

"Kouhei, was it?"

Kouhei nodded.

"How do you help in here?"

Kouhei seemed at a temporary loss for words. "Well . . . I do a lot of observing actually. Otou-san doesn't always let me help with procedures." He looked at Hattori as he spoke, as if gathering some sort of direction from him. "I can mix medicine though." He continued confidently. "And stitch wounds."

The boy certainly had a passion for what he did. It showed in the glow of pride that seemed to radiate from him as he spoke. He wasn't an unwilling aide. And that was what Hiko had wanted to confirm.

"I leave Kenshin in your hands then." He was looking at Hattori, but from the swell of Kouhei's chest, he'd taken the words personally.

The rest of the day drifted into a routine that remained monotonously unchanging for the better part of a week. Hattori spent mornings in the clinic with his son. The clinic's location made it ideal for everyone who lived in or around the castle town, so it was always busy, and Hattori divided his time between Kenshin and the other patients, letting Kouhei deal with the simpler tasks. He would break for lunch and then return for the afternoon shift while Kouhei took care of medicines or messages that needed to be delivered. Business abated considerably by the time supper came around, and Hattori dealt with anyone left at the clinic before wrapping up for the night.

Hiko appreciated the regimen−he liked structure−but he felt as if he were in the way. There was nothing for him to _do_. He helped Hattori with two late-night onsets of delirium, poured liquids down his deshi's throat a handful of times, and ultimately managed to keep the boy's ki from spiralling out of control with fear (after one more attempt at sleeping in Kouhei's room, Hiko had decided it was pointless, and claimed the spare cot in the clinic). He'd even done some menial tasks for Misaki. Still, he felt caged. And he was also somewhat apprehensive about the scene at Edo castle. Aside from militia filling the castle grounds, he didn't know what had transpired there after he'd left.

So on the third day, with no sign of Kenshin being fully cognizant, he announced that he was going for a walk. Hattori hardly acknowledged him, and Kouhei just gave him a bright smile, as if to assure Hiko of his competence. Hiko was still smirking over that when Misaki hurried over with a box neatly wrapped in cloth and knotted at the top.

"Hiko-sama, take some food with you. I just finished making lunch."

He thanked her and took the bento graciously before stepping outside. Aside from vivid blossoms and fresh greenery springing up everywhere, there was no trace of the storm that had drowned the land three days earlier. It would have been a perfect day to train. Maybe he could find a secluded section of forest later. He had a reason for leaving though, and that came before anything else. He was going to find out firsthand just how much people knew about the incident at the castle.

* * *

**Kenshin is on the road to recovery! Unfortunately, this means our story is rapidly coming to a close. I'm playing with some other RK ideas though, so I might have something out relatively soon after this. I'm thinking Battousai timeframe, as I haven't written anything during that period in Kenshin's life and I'd like to give it a whirl. But neither here nor there! **

**If anyone was curious, "Misaki" means something along the lines of "beautiful flower." And I think Hiko has enough style to use "hajimemashite." I'm sorry if I'm insulting all my readers' knowledge of Japanese, but if you're not familiar with the term, "hajimemashite" is what you say when you meet someone for the first time. **

**Love to the reviewers! Your comments and insights are always appreciated!**

**Althea M: **Yeah, Hiko's intelligence usually comes through, it's the whole "soft-side" part that he's got smothered pretty well.

**szahara again**: Haha on the tv tropes, thanks for that! I like their analysis. The serving girl got the hell out of Dodge, so to speak. She wasn't sticking around to see what else was going down! At least, that's what she did in my mind. You can make up any story you'd like for her. :) Hm, as for people remembering Hiko and his totally-not-flashy white cape . . . undoubtedly they did, but events are going to work out a l-i-i-i-i-ttle differently than you might imagine.

**t42n24t**: I'm glad the research is paying off, thanks for noticing! Haha, I'm not so much worried about payment right now for the good doctor. That's something Hiko can work out later, possibly over the course of the next several years. ;) ("chickens under the mantle," big lol moment for me!)

**Rose Crystal**: Yay! Hundredth review! Very exciting moment for me, thanks for delivering it!

**Kaida Ukitake**: Thanks!

**one-who-loves-sesshy**: Spot on on the rib-breaking! As for nicking a lung, I'm kind of throwing that to the reader's imagination. You're welcome for the updating. Thanks for reviewing!


	27. Chapter 27

**Well, my "before Thanksgiving for sure" promise ended up being way off target. Sorry for that! I've been super busy with holiday visits/gigs/etc., hence the incredibly long time it's taken me to update. But here is the next installment, finally!**

* * *

He had wanted to keep as low a profile as possible, if only to discourage word spreading of a large, cloaked man roaming the streets. Naturally, this was next to impossible. Even though he stuck to the less populated roads, Hiko noticed plenty of surreptitious−and some not-so-surreptitious−glances. The latter he kept a sharp eye on but they all turned out to be gazes from pedestrians who apparently didn't realize that openly staring at a passerby was considered impolite.

It wasn't what he'd been expecting. Not that the lack of active attention towards him was unwelcome but he'd half expected to see Edo soldiers patrolling the streets and banging on doors. He wouldn't have been surprised to see at least an outline of himself posted on surrounding establishments either. What he did see was−well, utterly normal. Who wouldn't spare a passing glance at a hulking out-of-towner? He couldn't pick up any feelings of apprehension though, and the jumble of conversations he managed to eavesdrop on all seemed to be about mundane issues. Hiko's pulse quickened when he heard mention of the Emperor at one point, but he soon determined that the topic was about the marriage of the Emperor's sister.

Odd. Not one word about the tairou. And by now, the whole town should be buzzing about it. It was almost as if they didn't know it had happened. Or maybe everyone knew, and had been informed to keep their mouths shut. If that was the case, Edo must be a city teeming with inordinately skilled actors. Hiko couldn't think of any townspeople who were able to keep their mouths closed about something as weighty as a tairou's assassination. The only logical conclusion was that they truly knew nothing about the incident. And seeing as he had yet to run into any castle officials, guards or otherwise, it seemed there was no one out searching for him or Kenshin. Which, he reflected, made sense. Jisaemon's men had nothing to gain by looking for him, and he was certain none of the castle reinforcements had caught a glimpse of him. That just left Naosuke's special escort, some of whom might or might not indirectly blame him for their charge's death. Still, if the assassination was being kept quiet−and that was the general feeling he got−they would have no reason other than a personal vendetta to bother with him.

He found his mood lightening, but hesitated to drop his guard completely. He needed to confirm the situation and the best way to do that was to go to a place where conversation ran freely; where he could listen in on the latest gossip without being obvious and would blend in as much as could be expected.

He strode towards a building down the street, one of its walls decorated with oversized kanji proclaiming "saké" in a garish red. As he drew closer the tantalizing aroma of katusdon drifted out from the open establishment and his stomach growled in response. He was glad he'd accepted the bento from Misaki. He hadn't brought much money with him from Kyoto, and he was looking forward to throwing back a few saucers of saké.

Pushing aside the _noren_, Hiko stepped inside. The building wasn't overly large; there were several small tables, and a counter that spanned the length of room, dividing the dining area from the kitchen. Listening to what people were saying wasn't going to be a problem.

Hiko chose a table on the outskirts of room and had hardly sat down before an overly peppy waitress came to take his order. He indicated his bento and said, "Just saké." The waitress skipped off, and Hiko slowly unwrapped the bento, senses alert. Most of the customers were slurping bowls of soba or grilling strips of meat. There was trio of men two tables away though who were more intent on words rather than food.

Hiko's waitress came back and sat a jug of saké on the table before kneeling and pouring some into a saucer for him. "Just call if you need anything else." Hiko could've sworn she winked when she stood to leave, but he was too preoccupied getting a feel for the conversation at the next table to be sure.

Hiko took a sip of the rice liquor, savoring the mild flavor as he set the saucer down and untied the cloth holding the bento. He found himself unexpectedly impressed with the tasteful presentation. The bento was a rainbow of colors: pink tuna surrounded a generous mound of white rice topped with bright green cucumber, and golden-fried tempura rested next to it. Two halves of an egg had been sculpted into white flowers with soft yellow centers, and sliced strawberries served as a bed of grass beneath them. It was admirably meticulous, and Hiko wondered passingly if the Hattori family always had such grand meals or if guests warranted special treatment.

He'd temporarily forgotten the reason he'd come to this place as he admired the food, but his attention refocused immediately when a voice from the nearby table mentioned Edo castle. He listened as he chose a pair of wooden chopsticks from a cup at the center of the table.

"You said your cousin hasn't returned from the castle either?"

"That's right. They told me the same thing, some disease the tairou caught that's spread to all of his retainers. They're keeping them in the castle, said it's too dangerous for anyone to go near them."

"Cheh! That's too coincidental that everyone contracted it on the same day. There's something they're not telling us."

The third man spoke. "Maybe the shogun found out they weren't loyal to him and had them killed." This was met with derision from the other two.

"You wouldn't find a man more loyal than Yurinojou!"

"Heisuke either."

Silence descended on the table and Hiko mulled the words over as he ate a piece of tempura. So a number of people who worked at the castle hadn't returned to their families and the shogunate was saying it was due to some highly infectious disease. It seemed the shogunate thought Ii Naosuke would be more dangerous dead than alive and were determined to keep his death a secret as long as possible.

Hiko continued to listen as he polished off the bento. The men continued to hypothesize the reason for their relatives' absence but an assassination was never mentioned. The closest they came to hitting the mark was wondering if their family had been killed in an assault on the castle.

"It would make sense to attack if the sonno joi folks heard that the tairou was sick." One of the men nodded. "It's a perfect chance for an attack."

One of the other men grunted in agreement. "Maybe Heisuke died protecting the tairou and the shougunate doesn't want anyone to know about it because it might encourage more attacks while the tairou is in a weakened state."

That remained the general consensus until the men left, reminiscing about fond memories they'd shared with their missing friends and acquaintances.

Hiko stayed a while longer, finishing off the bento and enjoying the rest of the saké jug. It seemed he had little to worry about from the commoners, at least. They knew nothing of Naosuke's assassination. Hiko would bet few of the castle guards and workers were privy to this information either, which meant the situation for him and Kenshin was good. Very good. Kami must have finally decided to smile on them.

The rigid tension that had been gripping him for the past week began to melt away and he considered purchasing one more jug of saké now that he could truly enjoy it. The faint tickle of caution that remained lodged at the back of his mind convinced him not to though. It might be that no one knew about Naosuke's assassination, but Hiko still didn't know what had happened between leaving Kenshin at Honmaru's and when he'd appeared at Edo castle, and that was a whole other something that nagged at him. He wouldn't feel completely at ease until Edo was far behind him and his student; preferably the exact distance to his cottage in the mountains of Kyoto.

With that in mind, Hiko paid his bill, ignoring the overly long gaze his waitress gave him as he handed her several coins. He smiled smugly after he turned though, sensing that the waitresses' eyes still lingered on him. If he didn't have a student to train . . .

But he did, and that was his priority. Waitress effectively banished from his mind, Hiko started back towards Hattori's. It would be convenient if his deshi decided to rouse himself from his semi-lucid state when he returned. Hiko found himself coming up with more questions the longer Kenshin remained unconscious, and he wanted answers as much to satisfy his curiosity as to determine how safe the journey back to Kyoto would be.

As he turned onto the street that Hattori's clinic was on, Hiko saw a small figure standing outside the clinic door, head twisting left and right in a comical searching gesture. As the face turned towards him, Hiko recognized Hattori's younger son. The boy's dark eyes lit with recognition when he saw Hiko, and he immediately began trotting in the swordmaster's direction.

"Hiko-sama, Hiko-sama!" He called almost before Hiko was within shouting distance.

The boy looked pleased so Hiko didn't think anything was amiss but even as the child got closer he wondered why on earth he was waiting outside the clinic obviously searching for him.

"Hiko-sama!" The boy, whose name escaped Hiko, was panting by the time he reached the swordsman. Hiko waited with studied patience while the boy rested his hands on his knees, gasping. After several seconds he wiped a hand across his brow and straightened, grin splitting his face. "Kenshin-kun is awake!"

* * *

The first thing that crossed his mind when he woke was that he must have had a horribly rough training session the day before. His body ached everywhere, particularly his back and right arm−what had shishou had him _do_?− and he felt spent and weak. He didn't even think he had the strength to move a finger. He hadn't opened his eyes yet but when he tried he found that he had to exert an enormous amount of concentration just to _feel_ them. Kenshin knew the training must have been intense because he couldn't remember even the smallest detail, no matter how he racked his brain.

Then light filtered into his eyes, and as images and shapes began to coalesce in front of him jerky memories of rain and darkness and strange voices ran through his head. No, he hadn't been training. He'd been−fighting? His memories were muddled and confusing−a leering man, blood and a headless body, ropes−and panicked emotions flooded his body. It seemed little effort now for his eyes to fly wide open and he whipped his head from side to side, needing to see where he was.

A clean, well-lit room met his eyes, and the faint scent of plum blossoms was in the air. The calming atmosphere slowed his rapidly beating heart somewhat and he relaxed a little more when his eyes met a gently smiling face. This wasn't a visage from a nightmare. Still, he frowned inwardly as memories began returning in the right order. He'd thought his shishou had taken him−somewhere. Looking for something. His memories might be returning but they were incredibly fuzzy and he found there were massive portions where his mind simply went blank. He must have looked panicked because the face that he'd forgotten about−a face that looked surprisingly familiar now that he thought about it−started speaking.

"Kenshin-kun, you're safe. Do you remember me?"

Did he? He thought he did. It seemed like such a long time ago that he'd seen him. The answer came to him though, and he opened his mouth to say so but instead of words a dry hiss sputtered from his throat.

"Ah, you'll need some water. You haven't truly spoken in days." Kenshin took the cup the man offered him, trying not to slurp.

"You're a doctor." There. That was better.

"Doctor Hattori, yes. Your−teacher brought you to my clinic several days ago. Do you remember that?"

"Not really." Kenshin confessed. "I remember rain. And . . . and my father?" He broke off in confusion. That was impossible but he could distinctly remember that.

"You were delirious for a while. You probably saw a number of things that can't or didn't happen." Hattori explained.

"But I-" Kenshin stopped. There was no use arguing. The last thing he really remembered clearly was his shishou bringing him back to Naosuke's house. After that he didn't know what was real and what wasn't. There was one person who could settle his uncertainty, though. "Hattori-sensei, is my shishou here?" Kenshin looked around, as if he might have missed such a hulking figure the first time he'd canvassed the room.

"He stepped out for a little bit an hour or so ago but I'm sure he'll be back soon." Kenshin wasn't even aware that he reacted to the information but Hattori's sharp eyes saw how the boy's body sagged at the news. "In fact," The doctor turned towards the back door where the clinic joined his house. "Inoue!" A shaggy-haired boy bounded into the room.

"Hai!"

"Go keep an eye out for Hiko-san, please. Search around the block if you have to. Let him know that Kenshin is awake." Inoue left and Hattori turned back to Kenshin. "There. You know, I think he went to get information about something. I don't know what, but except for this he's hardly left your side."

"W-what? Shishou?" That was something Kenshin would never expect to hear.

"Mm. A very private man, your shishou, but he-" Hattori stopped abruptly and Kenshin stared, waiting for him to go on. Hattori just shook his head though. "Never mind. You shouldn't hear it from me."

Kenshin was fairly aching with curiosity now. He'd thought for a minute that the doctor had been going to tell him something important about his shishou, something critical that might change how Kenshin viewed him, and strangely he'd felt a glimmer of . . . well, he didn't know what. He couldn't call it happiness, but . . . something . . .

Kenshin didn't have any more time to dwell on the strange moment because the door was thrust open at that moment, and Inoue came bursting into the clinic, babbling excitedly.

"I found him, Otousan! Hiko-sama's here!"

Kenshin saw the edges of the Hiten mantle spreading on either side of Inoue, and even though the sight reassured him, he felt a moment of uncertainty. This was the second time in a very short period that he'd caused excess trouble for his shishou.

Hiko stepped from behind Inoue and Kenshin followed his movements, waiting to see if he would say anything. The Hiten master's gaze swept over him, then moved to look Kenshin in the eye.

"We need to talk." Kenshin quailed inwardly. He could think of a number of things Hiko would want to talk with him about, and none of them were appealing. On the bright side though, the doctor and his son were still in the room and even though Kenshin didn't have any expectations that his master would curb his tongue because of it, it made him feel better.

Unfortunately, Hattori seemed to think he might be intruding because just as Kenshin finished his thoughts, the doctor glanced out one of the clinic's windows. "It's about time to close for lunch." He motioned at his son. "Come, Inoue, we'll leave these two for now." Turning to Hiko, he said, "I'll come back shortly to look him over and bring some food, and then he still needs considerable rest."

_Don't wear him out_.

Hiko understood the doctor's subtle hint, and he gave a cursory nod before Hattori dragged his son from the room.

Silence blanketed the master and student. Kenshin stared up at the ceiling, doing all he could to avoid looking at his teacher. Consequently, he missed the surprised concern that flickered across Hiko's face for a bare heartbeat. When he chose to glance upwards and assess the situation's gravity, he found Hiko looking straight at him, jaw clenched. Kenshin hastily looked away again.

"Why do you think we're having this conversation?" Hiko began, not unkindly. Kenshin might think otherwise, but he wasn't angry with the boy. Not at the moment, at least. He was more taken aback by his student's appearance. After being mostly unconscious for three days, Kenshin was a thin, ghostly shadow of the boy Hiko was used to laying eyes on. It seemed he'd only lost more weight since Hiko had first seen him in Edo. That made the swordmaster more than a little disgruntled.

Kenshin was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, unable to get a sentence started. He didn't know how to answer. If he told his shishou what he _really_ thought−that maybe he'd changed his mind about giving Kenshin a second chance at learning Hiten Mitsurugi−then the swordmaster might decide it was a good idea and leave him right then and there. If Kenshin made up some mundane answer though, his shishou would probably see right through him and keep badgering him until he coughed up what he didn't want to say in the first place. Kenshin couldn't decide which was the lesser of two evils. Luckily, his shishou saved him the trouble of choosing. After watching Kenshin struggle with words for several seconds he rolled his eyes and waved a hand.

"Never mind, I don't want to know. Why did you leave Honmaru's when I specifically told you to stay put? What happened there?" For a minute, Hiko thought Kenshin was going to pass out. Color drained from his face, and his breathing became fast and shallow. Then he swallowed.

"I-I didn't plan on leaving, shishou. Things started happening though, and−and I couldn't do nothing!" Kenshin's voice rose, and his eyes pleaded with Hiko to understand.

"I'm not admonishing you." The _yet_ was unspoken. They both knew that if Hiko deemed it necessary, admonishment would be dished out at the appropriate time. "I only want to know what happened. It could be important."

Kenshin nodded, and his brow furrowed as he searched his memory. "I sat there for a long time. Nothing was wrong. And then it got really quiet. I thought everyone had left at first. But it felt _wrong_. And then I heard something-" Knowing his shishou could guess what he'd done after that, he glanced over, but Hiko said nothing. So Kenshin continued. "It sounded like someone was in trouble, and then I remembered that Haruko-san had been there earlier. At Naosuke-san's, I mean. I couldn't leave her, shishou! It wouldn't be right. Especially since I'm training to be a swordsman." Kenshin sighed as if his fate had just been sealed. "I had to help her. So I left. I think most everyone on the ground was dead when I walked out. I didn't stop to look at them though." Kenshin spoke as matter-of-factly about this small-scale massacre as he had about the one where Hiko had first found Shinta.

"So that happened before you moved," Kenshin nodded, even though Hiko seemed to be musing to himself. "Do you know why Jisaemon's men were there?"

"One of them said something . . ." Kenshin's eyebrows scrunched together. "I think they were just checking to see if Naosuke-san was there. They were only at his place." Some of the tension lining Hiko's face eased. "It must have been Haruko who killed the two men at Naosuke's, then?"

Kenshin's eyes went wide with awe but then his expression fell. "I could only defeat one, shishou. I tried as hard as I could but I landed badly." Kenshin's eyes dropped and he missed the show of surprise that crossed Hiko's face.

If he could still push himself to such limits with those injuries . . .

Kenshin was still talking, voice miserable. "I know you can't accept defeat if you're fighting for someone's life but-I couldn't do it."

Hiko didn't give him time to wallow in self-pity. "At least your intentions were honorable. We'll just ignore the fact that you're an idiot to try and fight anyone as you are now." Hiko's voice took on an unforgiving tone. "What I can't understand is how you ended up at the castle. _Without_," He paused for emphasis, "the sword that I so generously returned to you."

Kenshin flinched. "But a guard came with your saiya, shishou, and−"

Hiko interrupted him. "I don't care how convincing some two-faced guard is, you were told to stay at Honmaru's and not move until we returned. I expect my student to be able to follow basic orders."

"But they said you'd been defeated and that Naosuke-san was dead!" Kenshin cried. He didn't know why he expected this information to change Hiko's view. In hindsight, he wished he hadn't even said anything more because Hiko only appeared angry now.

"He said _that_?" Hiko roared. "Even more reason to stay where you were supposed to! What do you think you would've done if I _had_ been defeated?" Kenshin sat mutely, heartily wishing he could go back in time and rethink his actions.

"Well?" Hiko pressed. "I'll tell you what you would've done, you'd have made some noble effort to fight and since you were already falling apart, you would have been run through two seconds later. Where's the sense in that?"

Hiko paused and Kenshin started to answer, voice small. He had to at least _try_ to defend himself. "I didn't think-"

"Exactly," Hiko snapped, "you didn't think."

Kenshin fell silent, lowering his head and blinking to keep hurt, angry tears from springing into existence. How could he be expected to think clearly after being told that his caretaker and mentor was defeated? How should he have known what to do? It wasn't fair that shishou was yelling at him like this. He hadn't said what to do if something happened to him.

There was the creak of metal springs, and Kenshin felt the mattress under him dip precariously low. He almost fell over but recovered his balance thanks to a surprisingly sturdy wall right next to him. The wall heaved a sigh, and Kenshin hazarded a glance upwards. Yes, his shishou actually _was_ sitting on the bed next to his deshi.

"Kenshin," Hiko's back was to him, but Kenshin was glad for it. He didn't want to see that stern face looking down on him. This was easier. "Knowing the most powerful sword style doesn't make you any less susceptible to the harshness of battle. You need to use your wits as well as your strength. If you don't know your limits, when to fight and when not to, you're still as good as dead, no matter how skillful you are." Kenshin opened his mouth, prepared to apologize but Hiko held his hand up. "You don't have enough experience to always judge this accurately, so it's my responsibility to make sure you aren't in over your head."

Kenshin could think of a number of times he'd felt in over his head just during training, but he kept his mouth shut.

"As my student, it's your responsibility to trust my judgment, and do as I say, even if you disagree or think circumstances have changed. You saw what happened after you got to the castle?" Kenshin nodded mutely. He had caused a distraction, and however unintentional it had been, ultimately Naosuke had been killed.

"I'm sorry." He croaked. "I didn't know what to do."

"You thought with your emotions. That leads to hasty and misguided actions."

Kenshin had always thought his emotions to be a good thing. They were what drove him to be a swordsman, what kept him persevering day after day. "But shishou," Kenshin began slowly, "how can you be a good swordsman without emotion?"

Another sigh, this time exasperated. "Baka, I didn't say not to _have_ emotion. I said don't make decisions based on them."

"But everyone does that!" Kenshin exclaimed. "Even you do, shishou." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Hiko's head snapped around, his eyes lit with challenge.

"Name me one time."

There was no point hesitating now, he'd already stirred the proverbial pot. "You came back to ask about me after the slave caravan got killed, and you came all the way to Edo to find me, and-"

"Entirely different circumstances." Hiko sniffed dismissively. "I had plenty of thought behind all of that. No use going into the fine details, they would be lost on you. Besides, you're missing the point." Kenshin blinked and stared. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Don't let your emotions dictate your decisions to the point that you lose sight of everything else."

Kenshin nodded slowly. He thought he understood. And shishou was right, he had a tendency to act on his emotions without thinking things through.

The bed creaked again, and Kenshin felt the mattress jump underneath him, springing several inches higher. Hiko turned after he stood, brows drawn together, and for a second Kenshin thought he was going to ask something else. He seemed to change his mind though, and gestured at Kenshin. "You look more like an underfed waif now than you did four years ago."

It annoyed Kenshin that he never seemed to grow; annoyed him more that shishou frequently felt the need to draw attention to that fact. He couldn't very well disagree with the statement though, so he just glowered.

"I'm giving you a few weeks to get your strength back, and then we're going back to Kyoto."

Kenshin's eyes widened. "That long?" Shishou wasn't one to sit around idly. Kenshin had expected they'd at least leave the next day, if not that night. He must _really_ look bad if his shishou said they were staying so long.

"You're still healing, and your fever isn't completely gone. I don't want any chance that I'll be carrying you back. I've done enough of that recently."

Kenshin flushed. "You didn't have to." He muttered, picking at the sheet in front of him.

"You're right, I suppose I could have just left you lying on the ground at the castle." Hiko smirked, then reiterated, "A few weeks. Enjoy it while you can, once we get back we're making up for lost time."

That sounded ominous. And now that he thought about it, he did feel tired. His body still ached all over, too. Not as excruciatingly as the last time he'd been fully awake, but still considerably painful. Maybe a couple of weeks wouldn't be so bad. After all, he'd need his strength for whatever lessons shishou was cooking up in his head. It would give his right arm a chance to mend itself, too.

"Kenshin?"

Kenshin started, eyes flying open. He hadn't even realized he'd closed them. "Gomen. I was just thinking . . ." His voice trailed off into a yawn. ". . . thinking that might be good." There went his eyes again, closing without any effort on his part. He didn't try to reopen them. From somewhere far away, he heard his shishou's voice, saying something Kenshin couldn't quite make out. He wanted to ask him to repeat it, but before he could think how to form the words, he'd drifted into slumber.

* * *

**Kenshin's ordeal is finally over! Now he just needs some time to heal and tlc (I think Hiko might be tlc'ed out though, so Kenshin might have to do without that last). Sadly, I think this is the penultimate chapter. Who knows, if I get overly nostalgic I might try and work in two more, but I think the next one will probably be it. **

**AN: _Noren _are those short curtains that Japanese establishments frequently hang from the lintel of their doorways. I think they're pretty dang cool. ****_Katsudon _(long form, tonkatsu donburi) is a tasty rice meal with fried pork topping it. And yes, I spelled tempura the American way because I'm more accustomed to that, and frankly, the difference between "tenpura" and "tempura" is like "son" and "sun." **

**Thank you thank you thank you, reviewers! I think the last chapter was a record for me. **

**Lady Red 88****: **Glad you're enjoying the story and my portrayels of the characters! Welcome back to the world of RK**. **Great place to be!

**Szahara again**: I'm totally fine with "late" reviews. I'll take a review anytime anyone wants to leave one, even if the story's already done! I did appreciate the boost, thank you thank you, sorry it didn't make my productivity speed up too much. I might've taken the lazy way out and not had Hiko run into anyone specific during his search. I figured I'd keep character stress levels moderately low from here to the end.

**Althea M**: I _do _like to chip away at Hiko. He plays a minor part in the manga, but he played a large part in Kenshin's early life, and he's fast become one of my favorite characters. I'm glad you're waiting for the juices to flow again! I probably tried everyone's patience to the limit on this last chapter.

**Kaida Ukitake**: Haha, that dose of relief he's feeling (even if he's hard-pressed to show it) must be doing wonders for his personality, eh?

**honeyberries**: Welcome aboard! Wow, chapters 1-26 in one bite, that's a good bit of reading there. Glad you're enjoying it! Thanks for the review.

**t42n24t**: No worries, Hiko will repay the good doctor. :) Give him another chapter. He's not one to leave a debt hanging over his head.

**one-who-loves-sesshy**: Very cool, I have a few family members who are nurses as well. The end is near!

**An ()**: Thank you! I'm flattered that you check for updates each day. Sorry you had to wait so long this time around! (I'm trying to decipher your username . . . the parantheses are throwing me).


	28. Chapter 28

**HAPPY NEW YEAR! And I present . . . The Final Chapter! Much less climactic than everything that's been going on, but I always find it nice to have the end wind down a little, get things back to normal. Hopefully it's not too boring after the hell I've put Kenshin through. **

* * *

It was closer to five weeks than three before Hattori announced he was comfortable with the idea of Kenshin traveling back to Kyoto. As it was, the doctor still felt a little extra time to convalesce would do Kenshin a world of good−the boy's psyche was as wounded as his body−but Hiko was adamant that they leave as soon as possible. Hattori was convinced that if not for his gentle but persistent reminders of Kenshin's fragile state, the swordsman would have had his student on the road even earlier.

The five weeks spent with the Hattori family weren't fruitless. After determining that the shogunate wasn't out for anyone's blood, Hiko had figuratively−and literally−rolled up his sleeves and set to work with a vengeance. The well that Misaki noted would be so convenient sprang into existence over the course of a week, making trips to the community well unnecessary. Soon after that, the small shed behind the bathhouse was stocked with wood−the forest bordering the rear of the castle had been a great asset. Medicinal packages and papers needing to be delivered substantial distances were brought to their destinations in record time.

Not only did the various odds and ends give Hiko something to do−he hadn't realized how dull his life became when he wasn't training an idiot student−it also gave him time to take in the general atmosphere of the city. Even as the weeks wore on, still there was no talk of an assassination. Hiko would almost have been able to believe it hadn't happened if the battered body of his deshi didn't grace his sight every day.

While Kenshin was healing at a noticeable rate for the entirety of their time in Edo, his fever didn't disappear immediately, and his skin had a sickly gray cast to it. Kenshin slept long hours at first, staying awake long enough to eat and bathe. Hattori insisted he bathe twice a day, and the doctor would rub salve on Kenshin's back after he dried off, checking for signs of complications from the lingering infection. Still, it took a full week before Hiko was satisfied with the pallor of Kenshin's skin.

The following weeks were more of the same, although the mild fever that had clung tenaciously for the first week finally relinquished its grip. With the infection successfully beaten off, Kenshin's back began to scab, and it became an art form pulling his clothes on and off each time he woke and before he went to bed.

Hiko winced inwardly each time he saw Kenshin's skinny frame without his yukata. As if the gashes in his back weren't enough, he had a bruise several inches high that reached from his throat to the back of his neck, and the contusion from the saiya had spread over half of his stomach. Both injuries had bruised deep shades of blue and purple but as the weeks passed the colors morphed into sickly hues of green and ochre.

Hiko kept a watchful eye on his progress, waiting for the bruises to fade, and when Kenshin began shuffling his way to the small back yard at the start of their fourth week at the Hattori's, Hiko scooped up the sword Kenshin had left and followed him.

Kenshin plopped on the edge of the porch, reaching a hand over his shoulder to dig under his gi and scratch vigorously at his back. The thick scabs covering it had begun to fall off, and as Kenshin's gi shifted under his ministrations, Hiko caught a glimpse of bright pink welts that would eventually fade into white scars. Hot fury filled him for an instant, and his teeth clenched as he muffled a growl. Kenshin's head spun around at that, and Hiko neutralized his features. He lifted the sword he'd brought and tossed it at Kenshin. Kenshin's frenzied reaction was almost enough to make him laugh. Although Hattori had given him simple exercises to aid the healing of his dislocated shoulder, the red-head was still running one arm short, and by the time he'd extricated his left hand from his gi, the sword was right in front of his face. Mouth open with surprise, eyes darting towards Hiko with indignant disbelief, he managed to grab it before it smashed him across the bridge of his nose.

"Shishou! You almost hit me!"

"Lucky I trained you to have such good reflexes, isn't it."

Kenshin looked from Hiko to the sword, back again. "What's this for?"

"To stab leaves and clean the yard." Hiko quipped. "What do you think, baka? We're training."

"Training?" Kenshin squeaked, all indignation gone. Even when all his limbs were functioning Hiko trounced him with ease. This was going to be complete annihilation.

"Not sparring," Hiko saw his deshi's features sag with relief. "You need to build your muscles back up. I want you to do as many strokes as you can before your arms give out. We'll alternate hits."

Kenshin nodded. This, he could deal with. Blocking Hiko's strikes would be−jolting, to say the least, but at least he could be assured he wasn't going to be knocked on his back just yet.

They started slow, and Kenshin was thankful that his shishou seemed to be pulling his strikes at least a fraction more than he usually did. Even with that added benefit, he almost dropped his sword several times. His right arm was really throwing his balance off.

It ended up being a pitiful performance. Kenshin could feel sweat trickling down his face after only ten hits, and by the time he reached twenty, not only would his arm refuse to move, he couldn't even stand straight anymore.

"Enough." Hiko commanded as Kenshin began to swing his sword while teetering sideways. "Your form's gone to hell. We'll do some more tomorrow."

And so the rest of their days at Hattori's went. Kenshin spent most of his time shuffling around the house and backyard, generally exerting little more energy than a bump on a log. Several times each day though Hiko would drill him in short bursts. It was mostly stroke-work, but once Kenshin didn't feel the need for an extended nap after each training session Hiko began assigning him kata to review.

Hiko always worked with Kenshin while Hattori was in the clinic. _People_, as he so often told Kenshin, were a distraction to training. Besides which, broadcasting one's style to an audience was simply a bad idea. Kenshin accepted these explanations but a part of him wondered if Hiko simply didn't want to ask the doctor's opinion on the matter and was just trying to stay out of his sight. Kenshin was fairly certain Hattori suspected he was doing some sort of training anyway. Especially when the doctor suggested he also start using his right hand to lift his sword.

"No contact yet," He said firmly, and Kenshin saw his gaze slide towards Hiko, standing in the doorway as he usually did during these morning checkups. "Just get used to the weight and feel again."

And so kata review began. It was frustrating, to say the least. Kenshin's speed wasn't anywhere near where it had been at the start of the year, and the more aggressive moves, particularly the ones that relied more on the right side, made his arm twinge, so he didn't always follow through like he knew he should. He kept at it though, determined to show Hiko that he was serious about returning to training, that he wasn't a miserable excuse for a student.

It was only a few days later that Hattori proclaimed Kenshin fit enough to make the long trip back to Kyoto. He came in as he had done every morning and looked Kenshin over thoroughly, feeling his throat and stomach, looking at his back and arm. Usually Hattori would make some small comment afterwards while nodding at Kenshin to head to the bathhouse. This time though he turned to Hiko while he rubbed the medicinal herbs into Kenshin's back.

"He's healed nicely. I'd say there's little to keep you here at this point. I suggest you continue using the salve and medicine until the scabs are completely gone, just to be safe. And you," Hattori wagged a finger at Kenshin, "don't strain your arm. I've realized you're just as stubborn as your teacher but you'll do serious damage if you try too much too soon. Keep taking it slow. Understand?" Kenshin nodded.

"Good." Hattori turned his hands palm up. "If you'd like to stay longer-"

Hiko answered for them. "If he's fit enough, we're going to be on our way today. It's still morning, that's a perfect time to start back."

"It certainly couldn't hurt to stay a bit more, and we wouldn't think of it as imposing." Hattori pressed. Just in case Hiko was, for once, demurring out of thoughtfulness lest he overstay his welcome. Hiko's response was characteristically blunt.

"The sooner we're back in Kyoto, the better." That answered _that_.

"Then thank you for your assistance while you stayed here, Hiko-san. My boys are going to miss having you and your student around."

"My assistance was hardly adequate." Hiko said. "Thank you, for all your efforts. I appreciate your dedication." Hattori bowed in response. He supposed that had been a lot to say, coming from a man who seemed ridiculously stingy on praise.

"Thank you, Hattori-sensei." Kenshin said earnestly, bowing from his perch on the bed. "Shishou said I could have died."

"And you could have." Hattori said seriously. The doctor regarded Hiko, for a moment, then bent down next to Kenshin and leaned in close to his ear. "But you know," He whispered, "your shishou cares for you too much to let that happen." It was apparent from Hiko's disgruntled expression that he couldn't hear what was being said.

"Really?" Kenshin whispered back, genuine surprise edging his tone. Hattori saw his mouth curve into a shy smile then, and his eyes flicked towards Hiko.

"I don't know what you're looking over here for." Hiko groused. "I can't hear anything you're saying."

Kenshin dropped his gaze but his smile didn't disappear. "Sorry, shishou."

Hiko stepped away from the wall. "If that's all, then we should depart."

Hattori rose to his feet and nodded. "I thought you would want to go as soon as possible." He reached to a shelf behind him and picked up a cloth bundle which he handed to Hiko. "Take this. It's the salve I've been putting on Ken-chan's back, and some herbs as well. There should be enough for several weeks."

Hiko took the proffered item. "Thank you."

"My wife has packed some food for you as well." Hattori continued. "I let her know you would probably be leaving today." He turned and indicated that they follow, and the trio made their way into the house proper.

Misaki met them in the kitchen, eyes already misty, and the next fifteen minutes were a whirlwind of departure. Misaki presented them with enough food to last several days, assuring them that it was nothing special, just what she'd had laying around. Hattori told Hiko of two good locations to stop at overnight in Totsuka, mentioning almost as an aside that if they passed those, the temple town of Fujisawa was well over ten miles away.

Bows and goodbyes passed between the two parties, Inoue jumping up and down as he waved, encouraging Hiko and Kenshin to come back and visit sometime. Kouhei was a bit more dignified, bowing to Hiko and waving to Kenshin, although he did take a moment to join his brother in gawking at the Hiten Mitsurugi master one last time. Hiko was busy frowning at the two of them when Misaki unexpectedly wrapped Kenshin in a hug, making him start.

"I'm so glad you're up and about. Be careful on your journey back." She turned a stern gaze towards Hiko. "Take good care of this boy." Hattori's face flamed with embarrassment as he muttered an apology about his wife's impudence but Hiko merely flashed a tight smile.

"If he does as he's told, that shouldn't be a problem." No-one saw the ever-so-slight cringe of guilt that seized Kenshin, and if the ever-perceptive Hiten master noticed, he didn't show it. There was one more round of goodbyes then before Hiko grabbed Kenshin's shoulder and steered him towards the door.

"Come visit soon!" Inoue called for the tenth time as they walked outside.

Hiko didn't respond, just lifted a hand in a casual wave as he strode down the road. Kenshin turned around to walk backwards for several seconds though, wanting one last glimpse of the man who had saved his life. Hattori and his family were still outside, all waving, and Kenshin thought he caught Misaki wiping her eyes. He flashed them a parting smile, waving vigorously.

"Sayounara, Hattori-sensei! Sayounara, Misaki-san! S-!" He tripped over an uneven patch of road then and almost landed flat on his backside, but a strong hand caught him just before he fell and faced him forwards.

"Look where you're going, baka deshi."

And so it was that on April 25th, of the seventh year of Ansei , Hiko Seijuurou the XIII began the long journey back to Kyoto with a still pale but very-much-alive student at his side.

* * *

The journey back to Kyoto took considerably longer than Hiko's solo trip to Edo. Naturally, just having Kenshin with him made it slower. The boy was−well, a boy. His legs were shorter and he simply couldn't move as fast as Hiko, regardless of how much he might want to. That, Hiko could endure with moderate patience.

Having a still recovering deshi who could hardly walk two miles without sucking wind, though, made the already slowed pace nigh unbearable. It wasn't that Kenshin was actually stopping. No, he pressed on even as his legs trembled beneath him and his jaw clenched with the effort. Somewhere between the nihonbashi and Shinagawa, Hiko wondered if maybe they should have lingered a few more days in Edo. At this rate, Kenshin was bound to render himself ineffective before they even reached the first post station.

Then he decided that it wasn't strength so much as it was stamina. Of course Kenshin's capacity to cover distance would have diminished severely after being cooped up for a solid month. A few extra days really wouldn't have made much of a difference in that regard. Just as well they'd started when they did. Hiko wasn't against making frequent stops; in fact, that would allow him time to enjoy the scenery a little more. It wasn't as if they were in any rush. Not technically, at least. Kenshin's endurance should improve significantly within a few days.

Until then, it was unlikely he would admit to fatigue or stop of his own accord. Hiko would just have to force the issue.

"Side of the road, Kenshin." His student took another trembling step and gave Hiko a puzzled look.

"But we're not-" He let out a faint _eep_ as Hiko swiped his legs from under him, grabbing his good arm to brace his fall.

"I thought I told you that I wasn't going to carry you." Hiko remarked as Kenshin found himself sitting on the ground.

"You're not." Kenshin scowled, pulling his arm from Hiko's loose grip and standing. "Why're you making me stop? I can keep going!"

"The only reason I'm not carrying you is _because_ we've stopped. You keep going like this and you're going to collapse before we get another mile. Save the martyrdom for a time when you actually need it."

"But it's going to take longer if we stop!"

"A brilliant observation." Hiko said dryly. "It's also going to take longer if you knock yourself out. Think, for once. Don't give me more reasons to call you baka deshi."

Kenshin crossed his arms in a sullen display to accompany the frown on his face but his show hardly rang sincere. He must have realized it, because hardly five seconds later he let his arms fall to his side and took a seat on the ground. He sat silently for a few minutes, looking up at the sky and taking slow breaths. After the circumstances of the past month, it felt good, to be doing something so mundane. A skein of white clouds drifted across the sun for a moment, and Kenshin waited for them to pass before looking up at his teacher. Hiko stood nearby, watching the wind tease the leaves of the trees.

"Shishou?" An absentminded grunt answered him. "I can keep going now."

Hiko's gaze moved from the trees to his student. Kenshin was getting to his feet, his legs steady. Color had returned to his cheeks.

"Good." They stepped back onto the road. "We'll stop every two hours today." Hiko could almost feel the anxiety emanating from his deshi, and he sighed inwardly. Sometimes, it was impossible even for _him _to read this kid. "What is it, Kenshin?"

"Am I−are you going to-" Kenshin paused, started again in a small voice. "Do I get extra kata every time we have to stop?"

Hiko almost burst out laughing. No wonder Kenshin had been so adamant about continuing before! He thought Hiko was going to pile on the work for every additional inconvenience. "Baka deshi, you already have so much extra training to do there's no point in trying to give you more."

"Oh." The one word spoke volumes. Hiko didn't have to look at Kenshin's face to know it was suffused with relief. That irked him slightly. He didn't want Kenshin thinking there would be no repercussions from anything that happened on this trip just because he was still recovering.

"Still, if we don't make it to Totsuka by evening . . ."

He saw the startled look Kenshin threw at him, smirked inwardly.

Power reinstated.

* * *

The winding road that led from the village on the outskirts of Kyoto to the mountains lay desolate. Beams from the full moon embraced the row of sakura trees, illuminating the late blossoms so that the pale flowers shone like pearls. It was an ethereal sight but only two people were privy to it that night in early May. A man strikingly tall and broad, a boy just as short and slender, the duo had just left the village to continue on the road to the mountains. It was an unusual path to take at this time, for sure. Most people avoided the roads at night, due to roaming samurai-turned-bandits that had become ubiquitous.

These particular travelers had swords swinging from their sides though, and the man at least looked self-assured enough that any bandit would think twice before accosting them. As such, the only greeting they received was from less unsavory nightlife, the shrill buzz of cicadas and plaintive chirrup of crickets echoing around them. The boy didn't seem to be enjoying the beauty of the night for what it was. He looked wary and on edge, and he halted suddenly and glanced to the side of the road as the insect symphony made an abrupt tacit.

"Shishou . . ."

"It's nothing, Kenshin. Just a fox." Hiko didn't pause, and Kenshin had to break into a trot to catch up to him.

"Are you sure? Maybe they're just hiding their ki . . ."

"If I say it's nothing, then it's nothing." Kenshin swallowed the rest of his words, but his eyes continued to dart and he stayed close to Hiko's side. Not that he didn't trust his shishou's judgment, but it had been a long day.

No, a long week. It had been twelve days since they'd left Edo, and even though Hiko had indeed stopped whenever it seemed his deshi was losing momentum, Kenshin felt as if he were walking in a fog. He was exhausted from the hours of walking, the nights of sleeping on the hard ground a ways off the road, the seemingly endless road before him. And now they were so close, walking the very stretch of road where Yoshinobu had accosted Kenshin. Kenshin knew it was illogical, but he had been thinking about potential ambushes since they'd passed through the last village before the mountains. He hadn't wanted to walk during the night−particularly on this part of the road−but Hiko had insisted on it, since they would be back at a reasonable enough time even though it would be dark.

"Shishou, I think I see something up there." Kenshin indicated a dark mass several meters in front of them. His fingers closed nervously around his sword, and he was so tense he couldn't help but jump when Hiko growled impatiently.

"Baka deshi, it's a prayer stone! Stop jumping at every shadow that crosses your path. If there _was_ anything out there, my presence would be enough to send them running the opposite direction." Now that they were closer, Kenshin saw his shishou was right; it was a prayer stone. He let out a breath shaky with pent-up adrenaline.

"Hai." Still, there were several more times when nocturnal rustles and unwieldy shadows made his hand clench spasmodically around his sword but Kenshin kept quiet the rest of the way back. Both student and teacher felt unbridled relief when the road, which had been growing ever fainter as they moved steadily upwards, finally gave way to a thin trail that could have been mistaken for a deer run. The row of sakura trees ended there, taken over by gnarled oaks and smooth-skinned birches that grew so close together their branches were entangled.

"Shishou, we're almost back!" Kenshin was fairly dancing with glee, his weariness temporarily taking a hiatus.

"And about time." Hiko muttered as Kenshin cavorted ahead of him, turning every few seconds as if to insure Hiko was following him. Kenshin was babbling excitedly now, pointing out small markers that he recognized as he passed them: a twisted branch here, an odd-shaped stone there. Hiko listened to the steady stream of speech with growing amusement.

After several minutes, the sound of rushing water could be heard, and Kenshin emitted what could only be described as a squeal and jumped into the air.

"There's the waterfall!" He stabbed a hand into the darkness, face ecstatic as he looked towards Hiko.

"I don't need a lesson on my own mountian. I know where the waterfall is as well as you." Hiko grumbled. Secretly though, he found Kenshin's antics rather−well, if he were a man to use such a word, he supposed "endearing" might be the correct term. Who would've thought the little shrimp would be so happy to return?

Kenshin's prattle continued without cease, and Hiko thought something was wrong at first when his chatter stopped abruptly. Kenshin had kept ahead of him on the narrow trail, and Hiko moved forward swiftly now, his deshi's body silhouetted several meters in front of him. The boy was standing stock still at the edge of the clearing where Hiko's hut lay. Hiko stopped beside him, following Kenshin's eyes. His student was looking at the shadowy outline of the house in front of him, eyes wide and somber. He stayed that way until Hiko nudged him on the shoulder, causing Kenshin to stumble forward.

"What are you waiting for, the night's not getting any younger." Hiko started towards the darkened hut and pushed the door open. A puff of stagnant air greeted him.

The inside was exactly as he had left it, if smelling slightly mustier than usual from disuse. There were the empty sake jars still on the floor, there were the dead embers from the last fire, there the unlit lamp. Speaking of which . . . Hiko moved to light the small lantern and the room was soon wrapped in a warm glow. Hearing Kenshin's footsteps in the doorway, Hiko turned. The red-head was standing just over the threshold, looking uncertain.

Hiko studied him for a moment, noting the solemn expression as one foot rubbed apprehensively against the other. It looked as if some conflict was playing itself out in his head. Guilt? Shame? Or maybe he was just uncertain how Hiko would be now that they were actually back. Whatever the problem, he was obviously dwelling on it too much. Hiko had the perfect solution for that. The best way he knew to reduce excess worries was to ply it with familiar work.

"Water buckets, Kenshin. Food isn't going to cook itself." Kenshin looked at Hiko as if just noticing he was there.

"Water buckets?"

"You heard me. Go get some water." Kenshin opened his mouth as if about to protest, but then his eyes sparked with understanding and a slight smile tugged at his lips.

"Hai." He moved towards the buckets, and as he walked outside with them Hiko followed him, heading towards the wood pile. Kenshin was too preoccupied to notice the eyes that stayed on his back as he disappeared down the trail.

The moon was bright enough that it wasn't an effort for Kenshin to stay on the overgrown path in front of him. Buckets swinging from either hand, he made his way to where he knew the shallow end of the creek was, hearing the soft gurgle of water before he could see it. Bending to rest a knee on the riverbed, Kenshin paused before he swept the bucket into the stream. It seemed such a long time since he'd done this chore that he so hated. Normally he would have filled the buckets as fast as he could and headed back to the hut. Now, he felt he could sit here all night, listening to the rush of water, knowing that it was only a short walk back to where shishou was waiting. He'd honestly had thought he would never see this mountain again. And now that he was here, he wanted to soak in everything around it, revisit all his favorite thickets and creek bends that he'd discovered over the past few years.

Shishou was waiting though, and Kenshin was hungry, so he settled for taking a deep breath of the pine-scented woods before filling the buckets and trudging back. When he returned, moving slowly so as not to slosh water onto the floor, the fire was going strong, and Hiko was setting a variety of food items and cooking implements in front of it.

"Took you long enough." Hiko commented, hanging a pot above the fire and motioning at Kenshin to pour one of the buckets of water into it. "Getting lost after such a short absence?"

The water sloshed against the pot's sides. "No. Just . . ." Kenshin watched as a handful of pitifully wilted green onions flew through the air and splashed into the water. "Thinking, I guess." He finished.

Hiko made a noncommital noise and continued tossing ingredients into the pot. Tiny bubbles began streaming up from the bottom, and Kenshin settled on the other side of the fire, watching as the bubbles grew bigger and the water started to boil. Whatever shishou had thrown in there, it was already starting to smell good. He licked his lips, hoping it wouldn't take long to cook.

"Kenshin."

Kenshin looked up, already filled with apprehension even before he saw his master had sat back from the fire, arms crossed across his chest. That pose never boded well, and the tone of voice Hiko had used didn't indicate idle conversation. Kenshin forced himself to look his teacher in the eye, swallowing.

"Shishou?"

"I've said nothing until now because there was already enough to deal with in Edo. But now that we're back, I want a straight answer. You didn't fall and cut your tongue. Did you."

It wasn't exactly a question, so Kenshin sat frozen, unwilling to reply. Hiko didn't seem to mind his reticence.

"You think so little of your life that you would try to end it on a whim?"

It sounded bad when it was put like that.

"Did it occur to you that not only would you be throwing away your future, you'd be throwing away all the effort anyone ever put into keeping your pathetically scrawny hide alive?"

_That_ sounded even worse.

"Three girls gave their lives for you, and you intended to waste that sacrifice, trample it even." Hiko's voice wasn't overly harsh but his words stung.

"I didn't think about that!" Kenshin burst out, unable to remain silent any longer. "I didn't think about anything, I just wanted it to stop!" The memory made his throat burn and his words caught painfully but he plowed on. "I thought−I thought you'd be too angry at me−and that it would-" He paused to swallow and take a shaky breath, "it would just go on forever, and, and, and that was all I could do." He stopped, ashamed at admitting his weakness, more ashamed when he realized his eyes were damp, threatening to overflow at any moment.

"And if you had succeeded, or I had arrived a day later?" Hiko let the words hang in the air for a moment. "A swordsman's life isn't easy, Kenshin. That's why I'm telling you this. So that next time, instead of acting on impulse, you think about your options. And killing yourself is _not_ an option. If for nothing else, never make your enemy's job easier." Hiko stood and peered into the pot, raised his eyes to Kenshin again. "Do you understand?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Kenshin nodded, somehow managing to keep his tears at bay.

"I want to hear you say it, Kenshin."

Kenshin waited a moment, giving his throat a chance to loosen, his voice a chance to recover. "I won't−I won't try to k-kill myself again. No matter what happens." It was harder than he'd thought, to mention it aloud. So much easier to just have an image in his mind. Maybe shishou had known that.

Kenshin's eyes were dry now, and he met Hiko's gaze again. "I promise, shishou."

Hiko picked up a long pair of cooking chopsticks and stirred the broth. "Good. Now get us some bowls. This is about ready."

The soup was a hodgepodge of ingredients that probably wouldn't have been thrown together under any other circumstances but Kenshin was so hungry he hardly noticed. He washed the dishes with the other bucket of water after they'd eaten, finding the chore as relaxing as drawing water had been. Hiko ordered him to bed as soon as the dishes were put away, and Kenshin was happy to comply. Appetite sated, all he wanted to do now was sleep, and he pulled his futon out with unusual alacrity.

One word had occupied Kenshin's thoughts since they'd returned, and it rested contentedly at the edge of his mind as he lay on his futon listening to his master's breathing, feeling the ki that he'd come to trust and rely on. He'd wanted to say that word so badly when he'd walked through the doorway, but then doubt had filled him and he'd imagined the rebuttal that might come, so he'd said nothing. Still, the word wrapped aroud him, warm as a blanket, and it continued to ring through his head even as he lay there, not fully awake but not yet asleep.

_Tadaima_.

* * *

**And so we reach the end of our 28-chapter journey! I'm crying inwardly. And actually . . . I will be posting an epilogue. A very short one. I told you, I get nostalgic! If you want to entertain yourself by guessing what it might be about, my nebulous hint is to think about how old Kenshin is (his age is mentioned several different times in the fic). And I'll leave it at that. **

**So now that we're at the end, please let me know what you thought of the story as a whole, any parts you thought could've been expanded/shortened, any extra character development, things like that. I appreciate it, and it helps with future stories. Or if you just want to heap praise on, I'm totally ok with that too. ;) **

**A/N: Well, Hiko finally did some work. I figured digging a well and chopping a shed's worth of wood was a good start to chipping away at his debt. Maybe stifling debt is the reason he became a potter . . . **

**Some of you might have been horrified that Hiko so casually tossed Kenshin's sword at him. "Swordsmen revere their swords more than that!" Yes, but I feel like anime characters take liberties with these types of actions, especially when it looks as suave as tossing a sword at someone. And it totally seemed like something Hiko would do.**

**Lastly, I imagine many, if not all of you, are wondering how the hell no one in Edo knows about Naosuke's assassination. Well . . . I'm really not sure how the shougunate managed to keep that under wraps either, but the population of Edo was told Naosuke was simply suffering from some illness, and before he "died" three months later, the shougunate actually had "Naosuke" turn in resignation papers. Crazy, huh? **

**(p.s. A/N: I GOT A MUSASHI KATANA FOR CHRISTMAS! And it is amazing. I've already had a photo shoot with it and made one of them my facebook pic, bwaha!)**

**To all my reveiwers, thank you so much! Critical reviews really help focus authors on areas that could be improved, and complementary reviews are a great boost to morale. Both let the author know their work is being read and appreciated! So thank you for the time you put in to leave a little note and brighten my day! **

**Darkmoon Fleur: **Glad you've enjoyed my fic! Stay tuned for the epilogue, it should be out within a week.

**Honeyberries**: Haha, no worries on getting out of Edo before word of the assassination gets out! Although . . . it would have been fun to get Hiko and Kenshin into more trouble . . .

**t42n24t**: I know, I've been horrible on the updates lately! I blame the holidays. I think regardless of what Kenshin knows about decisions based on emotion, that's just the kind of guy he is. He might be able to see how it's disadvantageous, but in the heat of things it's hard for him to change how he reacts. As for these events turning him against the rebellion (haha, Star Wars playing in my head), Kenshin was an immature child when he left to join the Ishin, and until Katsura asked him if he could kill, I don't think he quite realized what he was getting into. He's even younger in this story, and I think the politics of the matter are over his head at this point. He only knows some men want Hiko to kill a powerful someone for them, and that he was taken as bait.

**Kaida Ukitake**: Yay for ROFL! Glad it was worth the wait.

**ZukoFlame**: Heh, I know all about getting in the college apps and doing last minute stuff for them, it is HECTIC. So no worries about not finding time for review. Thanks for the super long one this time! I'm happy to hear Hiko isn't coming across as too mushy for you. It's one of my pet peeves in Kenshin fics, so I think I'd be mortified if my characterization was too soft (of course, maybe I overcompensate at times, but for Hiko I'd rather go with too harsh than too soft). Yes, Kenshin has had more than physical trauma, and the epilogue will address that to a degree. It might not be quiiiiite as in-depth as you're looking for, but there will be something at least. 6 AP classes? You are ridiculous. Good luck with that, you'll be happy you did it when it's over. It's really handy to have core stuff out of the way so you can concentrate on your major/interests. I'm looking forward to the next chappie of your fic! Hope Christmas/New Years break was more productive story-wise for you than it was for me! (But I did have a lovely Christmas! See above comment about Musashi katana.)


	29. Epilogue

**Just a little _omake _that I've had planned since the fic's inception. It was fun to write, so I hope you all enjoy. **

* * *

_Time heals all wounds_.

The saying passed through Hiko Seijuurou's head as he was jolted from sleep by his student's terrified ki. These midnight disturbances were something he had grown used to when he'd first taken Kenshin in, something he'd had to deal with again for several months after they'd returned from Edo. The swordmaster had thought the nightmares had finally stopped. The last one had been in late July, nearly two months ago. What had brought this on . . .

Thunder cracked, so loudly the frame of the small hut trembled, and Hiko _che-d_ softly as he realized rain was beating down on the thatch with unabating ferocity. The mountain had seen a relatively sunny summer and the rain they'd gotten had been soft and peaceful, any thunder accompanying it a mere chuckle in the distance. This sudden fall thunderstorm must have sent his deshi unconsciously spiraling into a pit of ill memories. Time might heal all physical wounds, but it seemed it would be a while yet before Kenshin's mental scars were completely gone. If they ever fully left.

Hiko considered letting the boy sleep it out but when he heard a faint sound liked a choked sob he knew that was going to be impossible. Next would be the cries, and the tossing, and finally the panicked disorientation when Kenshin woke himself from his own shouts and flailing.

Grumbling, Hiko shoved his thin cover aside and stood. Even though it was only September he could feel a cool stream of air drifting across the floorboards, chilling his bare feet. He lit the lantern as quickly as he could and crossed the five meters to the other side of the room with brisk strides.

Kenshin was splayed across his futon, one small triangle of cover draped across a leg while the rest of the blanket warmed the floor. Hiko could see his bangs were dark with perspiration, despite the chill in the air. Maybe he just needed a little shove towards reassurance. That was easy enough to do since Hiko didn't necessarily have to wake Kenshin. Collapsing to sit Indian style, Hiko concentrated on his ki, molding it into a smooth wave before he let it flood the room. Except when he was purposefully sending harsh bursts of intimidation, he never let his ki escape him this much, so he imagined it would be calming−

"G-go away!"

The response probably had nothing to do with him but the words, sobbed with such beseeching pathos, were still like a fist to the gut. Hiko ruthlessly ignored the sympathy he felt taking hold of him despite his best efforts to stifle it.

Kenshin still hadn't awakened, and now his limbs were twitching violently, as if he were trying to fight some unseen foe. Whatever his deshi was dreaming about, it seemed passive forces weren't going to shake him out of it; he needed more tangible measures. The last time Hiko had tried waking his deshi by shaking him though, he'd received a fist to his cheek. A glancing blow, but a blow nevertheless. Of course he should have dodged, or at least caught that pathetically skinny arm as it headed his way, but Hiko had just been ripped from sleep as well, and he hadn't really expected Kenshin to be able to twist from his grip with such smooth alacrity. All in all, his manner of waking his deshi had been an embarrassing miscalculation on his part. Hiko had spent the better part of fifteen minutes trying to banish the irrational terror that his well-meaning methods had brought about. That debacle was not something he wanted to deal with again, so that left him with one other option.

"KENSHIN!" Hiko's bellow shook the hut almost as much as the thunder, but the close proximity made a world of difference and the shout was enough to shock Kenshin into wakefulness. Legs flying upwards, Kenshin flung his arms out crazily as he jerked to a sitting position. His breath was coming in short gasps, and he was trembling violently. Hiko waited a moment for Kenshin's breathing to even out, giving him some time to get his bearings, then laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Kenshin flinched from Hiko's touch at first, muscles tightening accordingly, but he relaxed as his gaze trailed from the swordmaster's arm to his familiar features. The panic left Kenshin's eyes, and after a minute his breathing slowed as well, although Hiko could still feel a slight shake in his limbs.

"Shishou . . . I-I had a bad dream and−and−" The panicked look returned and he dropped his gaze, chewing at his lower lip. "I'm sorry."

"You've done nothing wrong." Hiko offered, wondering at this sudden display. Kenshin had apologized for his nightmares as a young boy but Hiko had finally managed to curb that compulsion. Maybe with all the time that had passed he'd forgotten-

Kenshin shook his head, looking as if he wanted to cry. "I did though." He seemed to get a hold of himself, even though he still looked as distraught as if he'd broken a priceless heirloom. "I-I think-" Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut. "I think− I wet the bed."

Hiko blinked, stunned to silence. Somehow, he'd expected something . . . less trivial. Something more along the lines of, _Shishou, I have betrayed all the secrets of our school_, or, _Shishou, even after your benevolence I decided to abandon my studies_.

Not, _I think I wet the bed_.

Hiko saw Kenshin was staring at him, waiting for some sort of response, so he pushed the surprise aside. "What are you doing just sitting there then?" Hiko stood and motioned Kenshin off the futon. "Set it in front of the door. You can clean it tomorrow."

Kenshin got up slowly, a picture of abject misery as he dragged the futon to the door with slumped shoulders. "Chop-chop, Kenshin. There's no point worrying about your−accident right now."

Kenshin released the futon in front of the doorway, staring listlessly as it settled to the floor with a soft _whump_. "Yes there is." He faced Hiko with a gaze that was half embarrassment, half disgust. "I'm already eleven! No one wets the bed when they're eleven!"

"It's certainly a stage most people have grown out of by now." Hiko agreed, manner teasing. "But," He added, voice deepening with gravitas when Kenshin's expression melted to complete mortification, "You had a nightmare. When something appears as real as these walls around you, it causes your mind and body to react as such. You were scared, and even grown men sometimes react as you did when they're scared."

"But _you_ wouldn't." Kenshin was being annoyingly obtuse.

"Of course I wouldn't," Hiko snapped, "I'm impossible to scare, and my body is far more disciplined than that of any man you'll ever meet."

Kenshin stood still for a minute, a faint scrunch to his eyebrows as he presumably thought Hiko's words over. Hiko watched him, considering whether or not to ask what his nightmare had been about. He decided against it. Kenshin hadn't volunteered any information, and Hiko assumed he wanted to remain silent on the issue. The swordmaster could make an educated guess as to what it had been about anyway; he didn't have to force a detailed explanation out of the boy.

Kenshin shifted finally, and Hiko gave an inward nod of approval as he made to speak. Maybe he'd knocked some sense into that dense head for once.

"But I'm eleven."

The stubborn reiteration was soft but adamant. Hiko waved an exasperated hand. "Baka deshi, enough already. Put some dry clothes on and get in bed. You're still training tomorrow, I don't care if it _is_ raining."

This seemed to at least stop Kenshin from dwelling on the issue any further, and he moved to the small back room of the hut where his clothes were kept. He reappeared two minutes later, shivering in the chilled air as he pulled a clean yukata over his head. "Shishou," He hugged his arms around himself as he regarded his teacher hopefully, "you won't tell anyone?"

Hiko smothered a grin of amusement. Who the hell did Kenshin think he would tell? The fish-monger?

Now that he thought about it, that _would_ be an amusing story . . . or at least something to hold over his deshi's head. Sometime far in the future, of course.

"No one." Hiko said, keeping his face serious.

"You promise?" Kenshin asked, doubt creeping into his tone.

"I promise. Now go lay down." Kenshin's eyes widened as Hiko gestured towards his own futon.

"But shishou, where are-"

"Oh, I'm not sacrificing my bed for you, don't worry. I'm staying up to modify your training tomorrow, so someone may as well sleep there."

"Oh." Kenshin accepted the explanation and dropped onto the futon, settling into it with a yawn. His eyes rested on Hiko, watching with mild interest to see how, exactly, he would modify the following day's training. All his master did was sit against the wall several feet away from him.

"Are you thinking about what you're going to have me do?" Kenshin asked, voice already drowsy.

"Yes."

"You're not going to write it down?"

"No."

"Don't you need to-"

"Kenshin?"

"Mm?"

"Be quiet."

Hiko stared at the far wall, listening to Kenshin's breathing until it became slow and even. It didn't take long. The swordmaster waited a while longer, until he was confident Kenshin's ki was staying as calm and undisturbed as his breath. Satisfied the rest of his night would be peaceful, Hiko snuffed the lantern and pulled the Hiten mantle tight around him before closing his eyes.

He hadn't been lying when he told Kenshin he was modifying the morning's training session. Hiko had been considering a more moderate regimen than usual−Kenshin had been working hard recently, and Hiko wasn't against an occasional taper session−but that was going to be put off for a few days. Tomorrow, Kenshin was going to be introduced to the variants of the basic Hiten Mitsurugi moves, ryuu tsui sen tsumuji and the like. And he would practice them until they were perfect. Then he was going to run the mountain until he dropped. He could finish up with kata, and damned if Hiko was going to except exhaustion as a reason for slow deliveries and sloppy form.

Rigorous, yes. But an exhausted student meant no dreams, and no dreams meant an uninterrupted sleep.

Thunder shattered the silence that had fallen and Hiko stiffened, cracking an eye as Kenshin stirred. His deshi made no further movements though and Hiko relaxed. He sincerely hoped this was a one-time incident, that Kenshin wasn't regressing to the state he'd been in when they'd returned from Edo.

_That_ had been a rough couple of months for both of them. Kenshin was consumed with terrors almost every night for a month, and while some were worse than others, whenever he had them he woke up exhausted and performed poorly at anything Hiko set him to do.

Hiko himself had been in a perpetually foul mood. He was pissed that Kenshin couldn't shake his fears, annoyed that he felt that way when he knew it was something Kenshin couldn't control, more annoyed when he considered that Kenshin shouldn't have trailed after Jisaemon and his cronies in the first place. As for Yoshinobu and Jisaemon, Hiko spent ample time cursing the two bastards who had caused his deshi such distress, usually in the middle of the night when Kenshin woke up screaming.

If Hiko had to deal with that every time it stormed−and the storms would come with increasing frequency as autumn set in−he didn't know what he would do. He'd thought he was past all that.

A_ swordsman's life isn't easy_.

Hiko's mouth twisted wryly as the words he'd told Kenshin came back to him. He was right, of course, the life of a swordsman was far from easy. Whether you were student or teacher, each had its difficulties. Hiko wasn't giving up on his student though. He was confident Kenshin had learned from his mistakes and was prepared to carry on with renewed determination.

Thunder sounded again, farther away than before, and Hiko could hear the rain beginning to let up. The morning would probably be beautiful, the grass carpeted with drops of water that caught the rising sunlight and split it into prisms of color. He'd probably catch Kenshin unawares at least once, casting admiring glances at the spectacle.

A smile slid across his face at the thought. He always marveled how a boy who had seen such horrors in his short life could still retain such innocence, still find pure delight in the simplest of things.

Kenshin . . . the name was undeniably fitting, yet underneath, Kenshin still retained Shinta's pure spirit that had first caught Hiko's attention. An anomaly, that anyone in these times could possess such a spirit.

_Don't ever lose that, Kenshin_. _You may be a baka deshi, but at least you're an honest one_.

The lone chirp of an early morning sparrow floated on the air, announcing the encroachment of dawn that had yet to send its pale cast across the mountain. Hiko settled himself more comfortably against the wall. He really shouldn't have given his bed to Kenshin like that. He felt as if this whole Edo fiasco was turning him into a compassionate, overly-sensitive lump of humanity. Utterly unacceptable for a master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. It was high time to take some countermeasures. Starting that very morning.

And with a trace of a smirk on his lips, Hiko Seijuurou the XIII joined his deshi in sleep.

* * *

**It's finally over! Let me know what you thought about the epilogue. I've always wondered why Kenshin would wet his bed as an 11-year-old (if you haven't read the manga, Hiko states that Kenshin is 11 when this happens, not 9), and I thought this fic provided the perfect explanation. **

**If you're interested in future fics/ficlets, I have a one-shot in the works that should be coming out relatively soon, and I will hopefully be starting another longer project (maybe 2?) in the next few months (all RK), so keep on the lookout.**

**Thanks for everyone who's read, thanks some more if you reviewed! **

**Kate (): **Thanks for the complementary review! Glad you've enjoyed the story and the character interactions.

**Honeyberries: **Haha, Hiko and sweet are definitely not synonymous! He has his nice moments though, for sure.

**t42nt42**: Thanks for being my most faithful reviewer! I appreciate the time you put in to giving your thoughts and comments. Your reviews were always a pleasure to read, and got me thinking several times. I'm happy you enjoyed the story as much as you did!

**I hope everyone has enjoyed the journey. I enjoyed writing it. Until next time, mata ne. **


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